


Dancing with the Devil(EDITING)

by CorsetBriefs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1960s, Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, Bullying, Demons, M/M, Religion, Sex, Soul Selling, Top Louis Tomlinson, a little homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:16:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 160,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21772066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetBriefs/pseuds/CorsetBriefs
Summary: It's 1967 and Harry is tired of being that little religious boy who everyone makes fun of. Tired of God pretending not to hear him, he decides to take other reins in secret; How bad could it go if he turned to the Devil? How fast would he answer him? It was time to save the Bible and turn the red candles on.Where Harry is a very sweet teenager who is tired of the way he's living and decides to realise a ritual to invoke the king of hell. Louis is the dumb devil who falls in love.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 43
Kudos: 297





	1. Prologue I

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of ["Dancing with the Devil." | Larry Stylinson. 🌹](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/541981) by BooDarkness. 



> B O O K T R A I L E R
> 
> https://youtu.be/RCtNYGOYhB0
> 
> // OPENING CREDITS //
> 
> https://youtu.be/yvtdQRow4Os
> 
> moodboard: https://pin.it/k6nrrktsbydlk4  
> playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/61WKgeWeU1QFPMO7aFkVY5?si=HzYmkXMzSLW4Ls0sm0iI0Q

**Giuseppe Tartini** was born April 8, 1692, and died February 26, 1770. He was a musician,  **violinist** , compositor of pieces that captivated people.  **Nobody** could reach his level, he was insuperable.

Even more with his best work;  **"The Devil's Sonata"** . Many admire that piece, others simply don’t want to hear from it, and the few who know the truth fear it for life.

The French astronomer  **Jérôme Lalande** has recorded in his book  **Voyage d'un François** the supposed meeting  **Giuseppe** had with the devil. The latter one said:

“One night, in 1713, I dreamed that I had made a pact with the Devil and he was at my service. Everything went wonderfully well; All my wishes were well anticipated and satisfied by my new servant. It happened that, at one point, I gave him my violin and challenged him to play some romantic piece for me. My astonishment was enormous when I heard him play, with great bravery and intelligence, a sonata as unique and romantic as I had never heard before. Such was my wonder, ecstasy, and delight that I was stunned and a violent emotion woke me up. I immediately took my violin wishing to remember at least a part of what I had just heard, but it was in vain. The sonata that I composed is, by far, the best I have ever written and I still call it "The Devil's Sonata", but it was so inferior to what I had heard in the dream that I would have liked to destroy my violin into pieces and leave music forever..."

**Giuseppe** died of gangrene years later, and those around him swore to hear a faint and barely audible melody. That sonata with which the violinist had been taken to the top, only in such a perfect way that people were afraid to move and stop hearing it.

Not because you live for years means that the devil will forget your soul. No, no. Now  **Giuseppe** has been condemned to play that sonata forever, with the blood of his cut fingers staining the soft and fine strings of the precious instrument, which burned in flames while the melody echoed in hell.


	2. Prologue II

**1955.**

The six-year-old boy played quietly chasing the leaves that the winter breeze carried away, but he stayed around the place, as he wasn't allowed to go any further. He wasn't in his home to be able to run around like he usually did in his backyard, pretending to be a plane about to land catastrophically. No, at least for a month.

Every year, he and his family spent Christmas in a cabin in a field far away from his hometown, bought by his aunt and uncle to meet on the holidays. That was an absurd custom because they pretended to get along extraordinarily well when it was very clear that the only thing that united them was religion.

While his three cousins and older sister were inside the house, decorating some drawings they had made for their parents, the boy continued to run in the same direction as the wind and the leaves, accommodating one of the black braces that fell over one of his shoulders. He didn't want his mother to scold him, telling him that he wouldn't be allowed to play again because he had ruined his clothes by doing so.

Or worse, he could lose the chain with the crucifix his aunt had given him last Christmas. Then they would kill him.

His steps stopped abruptly at a strange sound coming from the huge forest, which was behind the hut, a few inches away. The little boy looked around, confused as he bit his lower lip with his front teeth, which were separated by a small centimeter.

_What had that sound been?_

He didn't understand but, again, it happened, they were footsteps on the leaves that fell from the old, tall trees. He thought he saw someone hiding behind one of the trunks, causing him to frown in a rather adorable manner.

—Hello? —He asked in a curious, childish voice. —Someone there?

After that question, he couldn't help but be a little startled when he noticed how a pale hand with strange gold rings on its fingers came to rest on the trunk, visible to the little boy.

He decided to gather his courage while forming small fists with his cold hands covered by black gloves, taking two exaggerated steps forward but recoiling awkwardly as he noticed the hand of that strange, hidden person reaffirming its grip on the tree as if it had been startled.

—You’re not scaring me at all! — He tries to be brave despite his eyes slowly filling with tears and his voice shaking. —I’m not even a little bit sca-! Oh!

He retracted what he had said when that hand went back behind the log. Had he frightened it? Poor hand!

The infant was very curious, but, as he clutched his hands to his chest and heard his heart beating fast, he wasn't really sure whether to go forward or backward. _What should he do?_ That was a situation that should leave him crying endlessly, running back to his mother's arms and explaining everything that had happened.

However -a _nd for some unknown reason_ \- he felt that he was completely used to that kind of situation.

—I'm sorry. Did I scare you? —He took a small step forward, feeling happy when the hand returned to the position it had previously been, but only slightly. —I didn’t want to. Are you shy? Not worry, I’m… good, —he said aloud, smiling from ear to ear despite feeling a warm sensation rising in his chest.

_Fear._

Of course he would, and even more so when he didn't know that his future was what was hidden there.

He bit his lower lip before he got any closer, with insecurity, but before he could even stand in front of the tree, his parents started calling him from the house, about to go get him. His gaze turned to the cabin for a moment, turning back to the forest, and he felt the air leave his chest as a tall, dark figure peeked out of the shadows, looking blurred and terrifying.

He ran in the opposite direction as if there were no tomorrow, without even turning around, his cheeks soaked with tears and his face cold from the drying breeze. Once inside that warm, familiar room, he felt a little safer, and he didn't come out again, believing that the thing he had witnessed could hunt him down and eat him alive.

No one asked him what was wrong, and that made him feel like he had to keep a big secret. _He didn't like secrets._

The discomfort soon left, but even in the protection of those blessed walls... he began to feel observed.

 **Very** observed.


	3. I. "Invocation"

_Dominique, nique, nique, over the land he plods_

_And sings a little song_

_Never asking for reward_

_He just talks about the Lord_

_He just talks about the Lord_

_Now a heretic, one day_

_Among the thorns forced him to crawl_

_Dominique with just one prayer_

_Made him hear the good Lord's call_

The French, religious melody echoed through the dining room of the huge, protected house. It was so loud and had been repeated so many times that it was even quite catchy. Anne and Gemma Styles washed the dishes between small slightly deflated hums and Des Styles blessed the house with low murmurs. Anyone would be surprised to learn that every day was the same. The same routine, the same protection from God, but from the other side.

For Harry Styles, the youngest of the house, was locked in his basement room, and while everyone thought he was studying or perhaps praying and reviewing the Bible, he was actually in the bathroom of his room, with the bathtub filled with hot water, four red candles lit around him and in complete darkness.

He was half-naked, his small short body inside the water. His soft pale skin burned like hell. His breathing was hectic, but he tried to calm down as he carried his bottom to the end of the bathtub so that he could lie down under the water.

He did, but he wasn't ready to sink completely yet. He stopped inhaling, slowly releasing the air as he thought of a few words.

_You are the king of darkness, and I give you my body._

_For you to choose my destiny today._

_You are the king of darkness, and I give you my life._

_For you to choose my destiny today._

_You are_ **_my_ ** _king of darkness, and I give you my soul._

_For you to choose my destiny today._

When he finished saying that six times without even breathing, he closed his eyes and slowly sank his head, releasing some bubbles through his lips while his ears covered and the noise of the water made itself present.

Trying to resist the lack of air, he did his best to stay on the bottom of the tub, opening his eyes in painful blinks, trying to get used to the slight burning as he watched the candle lights remain the same. His chest burned, he needed to breathe. When he was about to come out he noticed how the lights faded away, leaving everything completely dark.

_It was working._

He felt his heart skip a beat and bubbles escaped his nose at the panic. _Was it really happening?_ A tickle made itself present in his chest and, after counting to six, he began to loosen his grip to stay underwater, his body rising a little. _It has to work, it has to work..._

Suddenly he feels as if a body warmer than the water settles on his, keeping him stuck to the bottom. He couldn't even arch his back, something or someone was hugging him tightly. Harry sobs dryly and tries to remain calm, knowing that nothing could go wrong since everything he had read in that book hidden in the dark side of his town library was happening. He hugged this body he couldn't see due to the darkness and waited.

All that remained was to lose consciousness... and he was pretty close.

Even with his eyes trying to see between the cloudiness and darkness under water, his mind began to cloud little by little without understanding what his thoughts were and with the desperation of wanting to rise to the surface, but that warm, heavy body didn't allow it.

**_He was going to die. He was going to die. He shouldn't have done it._ **

When he couldn't stand it anymore, even before inhaling, he lost consciousness.

Unfortunately and, apparently, he died.

Harry woke up slowly, still in the bathtub. His body was sore, burning, and he felt terribly dizzy. The sound of the water left him more stunned, his vision was gradually present and, despite the cloudiness, he could see that outside of the water there was light.

Wait...

_What was he doing under water?_

He despaired and, as soon as he came out of the water, he coughed, panting in a deep breath.

Even the first breath felt strange.

It was like a uneasiness deep in his chest, like a feeling of vertigo and a beeping in his left ear that barely allowed him to hear any other sound clearly.

He looked around, noticing the candles out and the bathroom light on. He didn't understand. He curled up for a few seconds, hugging his legs and trembling, looking at a fixed point in the water, which was now freezing cold. His thoughts were no longer so unconscious, he was now remembering what had happened and...

...and he didn't want to be there anymore.

Frightened and somewhat stunned, he quickly left the bathtub, trying to process what happened while wrapping himself in a towel and tripping out of the bathroom. As soon as he opened the bathroom door someone knocked on his bedroom door urgently. The boy wrapped his body better with the huge towel and walked awkwardly to the door, opening it.

His mother watched him as if she had just seen the devil himself. — Jesús. Son, what happened to you? — Harry's face contracted at the surprise and shame of having something he didn't realize; _Something like a booger_. — Do you feel good?

— Why? What do I have? — He whispered, touching his own face and walking to the mirror in the corner of his room, watching his reflection as his green eyes widened slightly and his pupils dilated due to fright.

He looked palet, with his lips dry and the white of his eyes slightly irritated. He bit his lower lip and was about to speak, but a terrible feeling of vertigo invaded him and, thanks to his mother, he didn't fall to the ground.

—Harry, baby. —Anne held him by the waist and helped him walk to the bed, sitting him down and doing the same. —Do you feel bad? Have you eaten? —The curly-haired boy merely nodded as his stomach let him know with a slight tingling that he was extremely nervous. His mother twisted her mouth as she touched his forehead, sighing and standing up. —I'm going to take your temperature, get comfortable.

When she left the room Harry didn't hesitate to lay on the bed immediately, sighing with relief at not feeling so dizzy and sticking a finger inside his left ear, trying to unclogged it, without success. Was it even clogged? Wasn't he supposed to feel like he was talking inside a bucket and not like someone was screaming in his ear?

In fact, it sounded like someone was playing the sharp string of an irritating violin.

He was very quiet and his mother would notice if he didn't assimilate what had happened: He had done the invocation ritual, had seen the candles go out by themselves and had felt the dead weight of a body on top him. He was smart enough to know that if he held his breath long enough, he could have inhaled and may have drowned. So, if he drowned, how is it possible that he had woken up again? That didn't happen often, let alone if he had really died.

His mother returned after a few minutes with a thermometer in her left hand. She began to shake it hard and then put it in her son's armpit, touching his arms and cheeks, remarkably worried.

—Mom? What's wrong? —Harry asked in a weak whisper.

The pretty woman smiled at him. —Nothing, sweety. I don't think you have a fever, you… you're freezing. Are you sure you ate?

—You saw me today. We all ate before going to the church.

—Do you feel sick honey? —Again the boy denied, causing his wet curls to move and stick to his face. He was lying to her, he felt awful. He had never lied to his mother...

—I'm going to change. —He whispered, sitting and blinking slowly, trying to get used to the feeling of vertigo.

His mother immediately stood up, walking towards the door. —Try to keep your arm still or the temperature won't come out okay. —She said before closing the door softly behind her.

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes with his small, weak hands before opening his closet doors and taking his pajamas: a gray T-shirt, baggy pants of the same color and long white socks. When he finished, he dried his hair with a towel and threw it into the laundry basket.

He turned and stumbled to his bedside table, took the silver necklace with the crucifix and put it on his neck, running it over his head as if it were a garment. It was a garment for him: He had taken it off only for what he did.

His eyes filled with tears. Why did he do it?

It was obvious. No one could ever blame him.

Although he seemed to have a great life, with a sympathetic mother and the perfect family, each of them had their dark sides.

His father… he was a good father, but he was definitely a bad husband. One time little Harry entered his parents' room without permission, and his mother was crying while her hands were on one of her cheeks, which was red and slightly swollen. His father turned pale and ordered him to leave the room.

_Where was God when he begged for his father not to hurt his mother again?_

His family were his parents and his sister, Gemma. Then there were his aunts and uncles and his six cousins, who never stopped bothering him and saying truly offensive things. All of them were important in the church since they were in the choir and they had voices like angels. They looked like that, since in addition to being physically beautiful, they also preached, prayed and helped sick people.

But for them Harry was the exception. They loved to bother him, push him, blame him, make fun of him and make him feel like nothingness itself.

_Where was God when he talked to him every night, asking to change so his cousins would like him and to at least have a friend?_

Finally –and the worst of all for the little curly boy– was knowing that he was sick, but not being able to do anything about it. Women didn't attract him, even when his mother forced him to take Sidney Preston, the Priest's daughter, to the cinema. That girl was perfect and, oh, Harry just didn't feel any attraction to her.

He knew that there was something wrong with him, he knew that he wouldn't be able to give his parents a large family because he simply begged to never have to touch a woman. He knew that a child wasn't anything, and he definitely wouldn't have a family farce like the one that, little by little, he realized he always had.

_Where was God when he begged to be normal?_

Then there was Dylan and Parker, the ones that bothered him at school. They were great –according to classmates– for using different hairstyles and having a lot of money, they also loved using Harry as the target of their frustration and anger. They kicked him, pushed him, broke his homework and got him into trouble.

_Where was God when they beat him vilely?_

It was then when everything became one big problem: The school and how vulnerable he felt in it, how his mother was desperate not to be embarrassed by her son, 'the fag', his cousins mocking his way of being, of his way of feeling and thinking and dreaming. His father revealing his true face and that the only friend he had was God... and he seemed not to want to hear him.

So he decided to make his own decisions: move to the dark side, test science. He was going to invoke, he was going to prove that nothing they said was real, and although God seemed to make deaf ears, he was listening.

But everything had been really real, or so it seemed... and he was scared. He really was.

His mother came back after a few long minutes and sat beside him on the bed, removed the thermometer while humming that French song and looking at the temperature, stopping everything she was doing and watching with a neutral expression the small device she had placed under her son's arm.

Harry's frown deepened as fear grew in his chest. —Mom, do I have a fever?

His mother blinked once before looking up at him. She looked scared, but quickly let out a nervous laugh and shook the thermometer hard.

—It looked as if you didn't have any temperature, love. —She giggled, putting the device back under her son's arm. —Try not to move, while we wait we could pray to God so you don't have a fever. It will make you feel better.

Harry loved praying with his mother, but he had a big lump in his throat to do it.

—I didn't move my arm. —He whispered, looking down and sighing brokenly.

_He knew something was wrong._

The minutes passed by and his mother didn't say a word until the time was up and she calmly took the thermometer from under his arm. She observed the temperature and this time she was pale. Harry leaned and tried to see what it marked, but Anne was faster and stood up in an instant.

—I'm going to look for another one. —She walked awkwardly from her son's room, climbing the steps in a hurried way.

Once Harry was alone he began to observe paranoidly around him, feeling as if a fixed gaze was on his small, thin body. He cringed and moved his little feet until his mother entered the room again.

He watched every movement of the older woman and saw how she left another thermometer quite different from the previous one in his armpit. She approached her son and wrapped him in her arms, beginning to pray out loud. Harry would have felt calm if he didn't feel so bad.

—...heal Harry so he can have strength and feel better on this beautiful day. Your strength is incredible, Lord... —She stopped as soon as the clock on the wall marked the exact time and moved away, taking the thermometer from her son's armpit and looking at the temperature it marked.

The woman's hand began to shake as her breath shook, blinking rapidly. The thermometer soon fell on her son's bed.

—Mommy, what's wrong? —Harry sobbed. It was normal for him to be scared and cry. Despite being a teenager, he looked the opposite.

He didn't even receive an answer, his mother ran out of the room. —DES! DES! THE CAR, GO TO THE CAR! THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH HARRY!

—Okay. Harry Ste… Styles? —The named boy nodded shyly at Dr. Jenkins. —Your temperature is fine, you just look a little bad because you haven't ingested sugar yet. I recommend you buy a box of orange juice and some candy: Chocolate, a lollipop, whatever. You’ll feel better and you’ll see that this is nothing serious. —He smiled widely. _He was a little scary._

—A-Are you sure he’s okay? I could swear he looked dead, even the t-t-thermometer showed it. —His mother stuttered as she spoke hugging her husband, who sighed and cradled her in his chest.

Dr. Jenkins turned to them, smiling the same way he smiled at Harry. —Sir and Madam, I assure you that your son is well. It's a strange case, I’ll admit it, but he's in perfect condition. In order for you to remain calm, you have to know that we’re always here, and that if something similar happens, you can come and we’ll have him under observation for twenty-four hours. Okay?

The Styles agreed. When they said goodbye to him, the doctor stared at him and the child could swear to have seen his eyes turn red and his pupils enlarge, but he ignored him. Perhaps he was only paranoid for not saying anything about what he had done that morning.

They were walking through the hospital corridor and decided to buy a small box of orange juice from a small kiosk there. His mother gave him money and he ran happily to it, asking the old woman for what he wanted. He handed her the money and took the box with the sorbet, taking a tasty sip.

**_Take it off, take it off now..._ **

It was a clear and chilling whisper, as if someone was really close to him, but when he looked around there was no one but two women with restless children and his parents and sister waiting for him in a corner, at the exit of that place.

He watched as one of the children approached him and pulled at his pajamas, causing him to look at him. Harry smiled shyly and raised both eyebrows. He loved children!

—I don't want to scare you but... the man in black is telling me that he needs you to take that thing off your neck. —He pointed to his crucifix.

Harry's smile slowly erased and fear reflected on his face as he stared at the boy, who looked behind him, widening his little brown eyes to someone much taller who was there.

The boy backed away and finally ran away, Harry just turned a little and walked hurriedly, without turning for a second to see what was behind him.

The only thing he noticed and left him paler than normal was a shadow that followed his: Taller and darker.


	4. II. "Good Bless You"

A day passed since what happened, that strange incident where Harry didn’t die but looked dead and a child told him to take off his crucifix. Adding to the feeling of someone staring at him, hearing footsteps behind him and the continuous beeping in his left ear. What could he say in his defense? Nothing. He sought it, he wanted it and still wants it.

However, it scares him... and he won’t remove the crucifix.

As he investigated thanks to the books in the hidden section of his people's library, once the spirit was ignored, he grew bored and ended up leaving. But did the Devil himself leave? Should Harry go to a healer or something? No.

_Of course not!_

He was going to be brave, he was going to get used to living with a look on him and with an annoying beeping in his ear, and he was going to forget all that strange resurrection thing. He was going to pretend that he didn't see red in his doctor's eyes and would also pretend that the boy had some kind of mental illness which made him hallucinate and see things that weren’t real. Maybe he could lie to himself and think he was mentally ill! And he did.

It was in that day, the second one, that Harry cursed/blessed for life.

The Styles were heading to church in Des’s green **Triumph Herald**. Harry was wearing a white T-shirt, black shorts over the knees, white knee-length stockings and black dress shoes. Everyone would say he looked more like a child than of the age he was, but that were the clothes his mother bought for him, and being small and thin didn’t bother him. It was fine, because most of the people in his religious town dressed like that too.

Gemma was wearing her dress by the knees and white flat shoes. His mother looked exactly the same, and his father wore a suit.

They were listening to a tune - obviously religious - that pleased the family, and they even knew the lyrics, but they weren’t exaggerated enough to sing it in unison. Well, maybe a little bit...

—Oh-oh. —Harry whispered, looking out the window at an accident in the distance, at the edge of the road.

Gemma tried to look out her brother's window while Anne covered her eyes and murmured softly. Des pursed his lips and drove faster, trying to pass it quickly so he wouldn't make his children sad or impressed. Harry moved closer to the window, watching through the glass as they passed and turning as pale as a sheet when he saw something totally black, tall and with broad shoulders standing on one side of an inert body on the floor. However, no officer around saw him. They passed him as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He quickly turned his eyes to the front and swallowed bile that went up his throat, pretending nothing had happened. Nothing and no one could remove that scene from his mind; The bloody man, with his sight lost and purple skin. The doctors and police talking to each other, and that somewhat strange figure, completely dressed in black.

—Mom, Harry is being weird. —Gemma said, looking at her brother strangely and moving away a little, as if to prevent him from vomiting on her.

Anne quickly turned around and Des just looked at his son through the rearview mirror, frowning and trying to hide his worry.

—Hazz, baby. Are you feeling okay? Do you want us to stop for a moment? —His mother asked in a sweet and clearly worried way, afraid - surely - that her son was sick again.

Harry shook his head quickly, looking down and breathing deeply.

—It’s okay, son. —Des said, turning the steering wheel to the left and starting to drive slowly so he could park. —We’re here. Ask God to make you feel better, he’ll listen to you.

Harry wanted to tell him that it wasn’t like that, that God wasn’t going to listen to him anymore, but he only nodded and got out of the car.

Everything was spinning, he rested on the car before sighing and walking towards the church at slow steps. A strange feeling when he saw ‘The house of the Lord’ caused his head to start aching mildly and his stomach to contract, causing bile to rise through his throat and not giving him time to call his mother, having a small spasm before bowing and vomiting on the pavement, at the entrance.

His mother quickly arrived next to him and exclaimed his name, scared while holding his son so that he wouldn’t fall to the ground. People who passed by to enter the church watched with some disgust, something that Harry knew and made him want to die right there because of the shame.

—Honey... —Anne laments, seeing that her son couldn’t stop vomiting even for a second and could barely catch his breath.

For Harry it felt like he was throwing up nothing - _because he wasn't even throwing up food, it was a clear liquid_ \- and as if someone squeezed his stomach hard every time he tried to inhale. It was so much despair that he fell to the ground on his knees and pulled hard on his mother's dress skirt, asking for help.

Anne had begun to cry, panicking and sobbing her son's name, Gemma watched desperately around her when she saw her brother with his face so red, but the only one who reacted was Des, who took his son under the arms and took him to a place further away from the church.

Harry immediately stopped and began to breathe between gasps, too scared to start crying, blinking slowly as his father sat him in the backseat of the car and fanned his face with his own hand. It wasn’t difficult to pick him up it since the child was thin and light like a feather.

—It’s okay, Hazz. You will be fine. Gemma! Take this. —He took money from his back pocket and gave it to his daughter. —Do something for your brother and buy a bottle of water and some candy.

She nods, taking the money and walking quickly towards the small market that was around.

—You are better. You can breathe, okay, son? You don't have to be scared. It was an ugly moment, but it's over.

Harry sobbed dryly, feeling sad and unable to release as many tears as he wished. He was still scared, but he was grateful to be the spoiled one of the family at that time, and he was grateful that his father was treating him that way: As if he were a child, although he himself knew that, partly, he still was.

He wants to go back in time to undo what he did. If he had knew he would feel this way he wouldn’t have done so. _Could God help him now?_

His father looked at him with a frown and slowly stroked his hand, Harry looks up.

—I want to go home. —He says, blinking and dropping the only two tears that came out of his eyes.

And Des doesn't contradict him at all.

After telling Gemma and Anne that he would take his son home and stay to take care of him, they both begin to walk towards the entrance of the church, surprised to find the priest standing there.

—Father William. How are you on a day as beautiful as today?

The man in his fifties gave them a barely noticeable smile. —Very well, thanks. Why don't you go inside? You’re welcome.

They nod and walk until they are inside, however Father William stayed there, watching how Des carried the helpless and weak child into the car. A sigh escaped his lips when he noticed how a shadow stepped on their heels.

—God bless you, Styles. —He whispered, and believed that he would be safer from whatever that shadow was, inside the church. Without hesitation, he entered and decided to forget the subject completely.

After a delicious meal that his father had prepared for him he felt already much better.

_Fly me to the moon_

  
_And let me play among the stars_

  
_Let me see what spring is like_

_On a-Jupiter and Mars_

  
_In other words, hold my hand_

  
_In other words, darling, kiss me_

He was in his room again, listening to Frank Sinatra on his record player with his father's permission - _since the family wouldn’t let him hear more than religious music_ \- 

He was smart enough to turn everything off and hide the vinyl in a box under his bed when he heard how his mother, sister and more people entered the house. He sighed: Here was his lovely family.

He went back to bed, covering himself with the blankets up to his head, pretending to be asleep. His mother was quick to enter his room, calling him and causing him to uncover.

—Oh, my love. —Anne lamented, approaching the bed and sitting, hugging her son. —Honey, I'm sorry. I really couldn’t miss church. Do you feel better? Do you need to see a doctor?

Harry quickly shook his head, smiling at his mother so she would calm down. _She was so sweet_. —No mommy, I'm fine. I feel better.

The woman smiled. —I have asked God for it, with all my strength. I have a lot of faith, of course you're going to feel better. —She didn’t doubt for a second in her words, leaving a kiss on his son’s forehead, who did doubt. —Okay, since you're fine I need you to go up and say hello to the family.

The smile was wiped off the boy's lips, being replaced by a little pout on his lower lip.

—Oh, come on, baby. Just for few minutes, okay? Then you can come here, or go anywhere in the house. For me, come on.

And Harry couldn’t resist.

He put on his shoes, combed his hair and took his mother by the hand, being led out of the room, upstairs.

Once he arrived to the living room, he noticed that his father talking with his aunt and uncle, offering them a tray full of muffins. Everyone had their respective teas or coffees. Gemma was chatting with her aunt and Harry's cousins had their group apart.

The boy greeted each one of them in an educated way, ignoring how his relatives pretended to make arches, then noises of cries and arcades again.

The crucifix on Harry's neck burned too much on his skin, and whenever his cousins annoyed him in some way, his chain warmed to such an extent that made the child sigh pitifully.

_You see, everything would have been better if they hadn't bothered him so much._

—Harry! —Her mother scolded completely upset, frowning.

She quickly pointed to the door that led to the basement, and the curly boy didn't even need to hear what was next, he simply turned guilty and escaped to his room.

Once there, he can hear his cousins writhing in laughter in the dining room and his uncles discussing with his parents about what the boy had said in full discussion for not enduring the mockery of his relatives.

**_"You'll see! Everyone who makes fun of me will pay! God isn’t the only one who sees everything, there is someone below who will come soon!”_ **

That nonsense had driven everyone in the house crazy.

But Harry wasn't to blame; Hell no. He had begged God every day for the teasing from his cousins to stop, for them changing or changing something in him so that they would no longer hurt him, but nothing ever changed: It was always the same. God didn’t help him, the boy felt lonely and... went for help to other worlds.

Nothing had happened yet, but Harry could feel it: He could feel the presence of something, something that desperately wanted to get out but one thing prevented it. However, that something knew that, soon, the little boy would realize and give him the step to start his work. It was like having someone breathing on your neck, the feeling of looking back because you feel a fixed gaze on you. Chills wherever you were, all the time. It didn't matter, because Harry could bear anything they did to him in order to know that something like that existed.

But right now he was very sad, without needing to look at all those symptoms that proved the unreal. He throws himself on his bed, putting himself in a fetal position and crying loudly. There was something that didn’t let him breathe. It seemed as if there were hands clinging to his neck that, from time to time, give him a massage but suddenly squeezed so hard that he had to gasp for air.

With a frown he sits slowly, letting tears flow down his cheeks and starting to gasp for oxygen slowly. He doesn’t understand, it was as if his throat closed. He wasn’t allergic to anything.

He wanted to shout or call his parents, but his voice disappeared. He quickly opened his white shirt and started to panic when he noticed that nothing happened. He has no choice but to tear off the crucifix from his neck and get up in despair to head towards the small window that almost reached the ceiling, trying to open it, although it was almost impossible due to the height.

The air comes back suddenly, although it was too late to not feel dizzy: His eyes closed and his body swung back, but when he thought he was about to fall, strong and warm arms held him from behind. Other person's breath hit his neck, making him calm down and get nervous at the same time. He doesn't know who he is but he suspects it, and that makes his hair ends stand.

—I’ve got you. —A chilling voice whispers, causing him to feel a strange sensation in his chest.

The arms of that cruel supposed myth made him feel good, even emanating uneasiness for each of his pores. For some reason, he wasn't so scared.

However... Should he?

He had to find out.


	5. III. "Evil Personified"

Harry's breathing increased as did his heart rate. Even feeling like he was dead, he could swear that if he didn't die right there it was pure luck.

He felt something caressing his neck, and then two things were positioned on his hips, holding him. He looked down and, despite being stunned, could process that those things were hands. _Man's hands, human hands._

 _Was the thing behind him human?_ He felt a breath near his left ear, his skin bristled and his eyes closed tightly.

—I couldn't wait for you to take that little shit off your neck. —The voice was normal, nothing evil nor full of anger, although it had something that caused chills. Maybe it was the tranquility, or the deafening silence that formed when it was present.

Harry's breath stopped, he felt he was going to die. _He was really going to die._

—Ready? —The boy tried to swallow, but could barely pass air through his throat and nose. He was going to turn him around, and he was going to be scared because nothing good can come from the Devil. **Nothing pretty, nothing angelic. Only disturbing. Horrifying.**

He continued with his eyes closed tightly as soon as the hands on his hips made him turn, facing the thing. The only things that were heard in that room were breaths and the murmurs and the footsteps upstairs.

He had to open his eyes, he gad to expect the worst.

Slowly he opened his eyes, and his breath got caught in his throat, admiring the evil personified in front of his small body. There was nothing like a red entity with horns and long tail, nor was there a frighteningly hellish face or body. Much less something horrifying...

...He was simply human.

The most precious human/demon he had ever seen.

Pale skin, tall and thin figure. Dark, short, straight hair, lips thin but red like blood, short nose, sharp jaw, arched eyebrows and, bless God, his eyes.

As blue as the sky, appearing home of angels. However, a quarter of one of them was of a red color, in which thousands of souls took refuge. His pupils were dilated, but they were the most beautiful eyes that Harry had ever seen.

Okay. He was scary. He was scary because you could clearly feel the discomfort when you were close, and his deep gaze gave chills. He was wearing all black. A buttoned up shirt, long sleeves, pants and polished shoes, which looked new. The gold rings on each finger of the archangel made him travel to a vague memory. He knew that he had once seen someone like that, with many jewels, but he didn't remember when.

Nor did he want to.

The head of the tall dark figure crocked, Harry had no idea if he was in shock at the fear or the beauty of whatever it was that was in front of him.

—...How is it that a little boy like you ended up calling someone like me? It must be important. —He nodded slowly after saying that. Harry continued without saying anything, trying to breath.

_Say something, stupid!_

A sharp inhalation caused the supposed King of Darkness to pretend to be surprised, raising both eyebrows, maintaining the perfect seriousness in his beautiful face.

—I-I... —He was interrupted by a knock on the door of his room, startling him and making him look over there.

—Hey, cousin. Are you still chatting with the Devil? —Laughs were heard. There wasn't only one person behind that door, obviously. —Your mother says to come up to eat cake, we have a slice for _Luci_ too.

—And for any imaginary friend you wish to have.

—Because fags don’t have real friends. —More laughs.

The child's breathing shook again, his greenish eyes soon filled with tears, a trembling pout appeared in his lips and, soon, a low and painful sob ended the silence in the room.

The Devil continued to look towards the door with a neutral expression before looking at Harry, not caring that he was crying like that.

—The Castrati. —He says, and although Harry doesn’t understand, he simply nods so that _Mister Devil_ doesn’t feel that he hasn’t heard him.

_It's funny how he is kind even to the vilest being in existence._

Harry's cousins continue to say hurtful things, and that’s when Harry sobs - _for the first time_ \- loudly enough that the archangel seems to notice it. Of course he knew, he was only drunk with the smell of anguish and pain in that room.

—Hey, no, no, no. _Shh_. —He massaged Harry's lower back, for although the human has turned, it hasn't stopped being held. —We must not cry, we are not cowards, right? —Due to the terror, the curly boy shook his head slowly, sipping his nose and wiping the traces of tears on his cheeks before looking up.

The devil continues with his neutral expression, his blue eyes fixed at one point in the room, as if he were thinking. Soon he stared at the curly boy, who looks down. —What if I make them shit themselves? That would be fun.

He feels the Devil's gaze on his face, and the situation is so disturbing that his whole body begins to shake uncontrollably.

One of the human-shaped creature's hands pulled away from Harry's lower back, quickly snapping his fingers. A disgusting noise becomes audible, followed by more and questions:

**_"What is that smell?"_ **

**_"...I shitted myself."_ **

**_"...What just happened?"_ **

Running is heard, they are already upstairs and Harry tries not to laugh loudly as soon as his uncle finds out about the accident his cousins had, beginning to complain about the smell and the food that was served in the house of The Styles.

The Devil smirks as soon as Harry coveres his mouth with both hands, letting out a strangled, flushed giggle.

—Did you hear? It was fun. —He said, releasing the boy completely and turning around, starting to walk around the room. —Not that it was fun just because they shitted themselves, but also because it feels good when you embarrass those who deserve it. —When he finishes, he stops in a corner of the room, standing there and staring at the boy's huge green eyes. —Right?

—I... I d-don’t know. —Harry managed to say among poor stutters, shrinking instead because of how intimidated he felt.

He looked around, on the ground, searching for the crucifix. His mother had given it to him when he was seven, and since then he had taken care of it with all his heart.

—I destroyed it.

He looked at the archangel, who was no longer smirking. He was serious, with his head slightly tilted down and staring at him. Harry didn’t dare to argue but, nevertheless, felt a stitch in his chest. The beeping in his ear became much louder when their eyes connected.

—You are no longer protected. —The Devil spoke again, beginning to approach his prey very slowly. The Devil's new toy, a completely different one. Harry exuded innocence everywhere, that was never faked. _Never_. —You called me, and you don't know what you've got yourself into.

Harry began to back away slowly. —I...

The Devil stopped and extended his hand after a few seconds, letting the human understand that he wanted him to take it. This one, doubtful and trembling, approached and did. The touch burned slightly, thousands of disturbing images were present in Harry's mind for less than a second, so soon he even doubted it was real.

—You, Harry Styles, are the first person who sells his soul to me in the purest way I know. However, you still don't know it.

The curly boy’s face turned even whiter. That was true, Harry still didn’t know why he had invoked such a vile being but, nevertheless, he also knew that, deep down, he was determined by something.

He just had to find out what.

—Just as you were a brave child by letting me drown you when you accepted me as _your king_ , you will be a brave child when you sleep and I am in a corner of your room, you’ll see me when you breath, watching you. —He moved a little closer to Harry, looking at him so steadily that the latter began to panic. —I'm going to do what you asked for when you called me, and in exchange for that... I'm going to take your soul.

Everything was silent for a few seconds.

—It’s important that you know that your God will no longer protect you. —He raised both eyebrows, and one of the corners of his lips rose slightly. — **You are mine now.**

Regret and horror ran through every part of his body, and when he was about to answer some knocks were heard at his door. When he looked at it and then looked back at the Devil in front of him, he had already disappeared.

But Harry knew he was there, he saw him from the corner of my eye.

He stayed all day clinging to his mother's arm with the excuse of wanting to spend time with her. He helped her make snacks, clean the house and even make dinner as soon as it got dark.

When they were in their respective places, Des suggested that it would be a good idea for Harry to begin the prayer.

_Well, yes! Sure! Harry would love to do it. He had done it before, he used to like it._

_Not anymore._ The protection of the _Lord_ wasn’t in him, and he was more than sure that if he said anything he would end up vomiting insanely.

—I… I'm sorry, dad. I don't feel very well to do it, could you, Gemma? —Harry watched his sister, who, delighted, began to pray.

—Lord, thank you for the food you give us every day. We thank you infinitely for your great mercy by putting a plate on our table...

Again, Harry threw up. Fortunately, he was able to reach the bathroom before doing so in front of his family.

He knelt in front of the toilet and released an arcade before transparent liquid came out of his mouth. Water, nothing more than that and it was all because he hadn’t eaten anything since he vomited in the afternoon.

He rinsed his mouth, trying to calm down, without looking in the mirror because he knew he had someone behind. He left and went to the table. Gemma had finished her prayer, and Anne looked at her son worriedly.

—Baby, are you okay? —Harry nodded quickly, sitting in his respective place before sighing and starting to eat.

Des commented things about the church, things Harry would have heard delighted if it wasn't because he was going crazy. He was going to die, in a few days or weeks his family would find his body inert somewhere. Sooner or later the Devil would take his soul, and he would never rest in peace.

_Was he able to assimilate that?_

The crucifix protected him. Did that mean that God existed? Why did God want to prevent Harry from seeing the thing he invoked, when he could have avoided it as soon as the boy begged him to help him with his problems?

**It was unfair how even the supernatural played with his heart.**

Finally the time came for everyone to go to their respective rooms to sleep. Anne accompanied her son to the basement, hearing his pleas because he didn’t want to sleep alone. For the boy, the basement was now something very scary. He knew that if he was alone the Devil was going to appear. He would start to go crazy, He couldn't sleep.

—Hazzie, you don't have to fear, my love. —His mother made him enter the room. He was already in pajamas, he quickly got into bed and looked around. There was no one. —Honey, did you watch any horror movies? You know your father doesn't allow that here.

—N-no, it’s not that, mommy. I had… nightmares. —He swaddle with the help of his mother, who accommodated his curls. It was when Harry saw her face more closely that he noticed a bruise on her right cheekbone, but he didn't look at it too much.

—Oh, love. Don't worry, those things that scare you don't exist. —Harry just swallowed, letting himself be pampered by his mother's kisses on his cheek, causing him to smile. —Who is my boy with sweet dimples?

—I am.

—You’re, of course. —She left a kiss on the boy's forehead before standing up. Harry's eyes filled with tears and his breath shook. —I will leave the light on, just for today.

He thanked that, still trying to hide that he was going to cry. —Thanks, mommy.

Anne opened the basement door, leaving the room but not before showing half of her body to dedicate a smile to her son.

—Goodnight, my love. God bless you, dream of angels. —And she left, closing the door.

A sigh came from Harry's lips, followed by a frightened whine as soon as the light in the room went out by itself. Quickly he put his whole body under the blankets, and began to cry as soon as slow but strong steps became audible in the room, around his bed.

_No._

_He shouldn't be afraid, he shouldn't._

_...Actually yes, but he had already sold his soul, it was already done._

He quickly uncovered, the room was still dark, being illuminated by the moonlight which entered through the small window.

—You don’t sleep? —The voice so close it caused him to jump, agitated and quickly shooking his head.

—N-no. You?

—No.

He exhaled slowly, clinging to the blankets and feeling the tears continue to fall down his cheeks.

—...Where are you?

—Look at the window. —The response was quick.

When he saw him, he snuggled even more into place when he saw a shadow thanks to the light in his window, in the middle. He could tell it was him by his head.

—Co-Could... I... —He lay on the bed little by little until his cheek lay on the pillow. —...sleep?

—I thought you didn’t.

The figure in front of his window and in full darkness remained disturbing, and he wondered if the archangel saw him.

—Would you like...? —Yes, he was definitely crazy for what he was going to ask. _My God, what was he going to say. —_ I... I mean, Would you mind...? Do you want to l-lie next to me? I-I, uhm, I wouldn't have... I wouldn't have any problem.

There was no answer, just silence, and the figure remained still in front of his window. Harry thought he offended him, and he was so scared that he covered his entire body with the blankets and cried loudly until he fell asleep in a deep nightmare.

The Devil, on the other hand, continued to stand in his place, neutral. _For the first time in his existence he hadn't known what to say, and although he didn’t know it at that time, that day, after the most innocent child on the planet invited him to lie down so that he wouldn’t be uncomfortable standing..._

_...that day something beat in his chest._


	6. IV. "Favorite Boy"

A knock on the door of his room causes his eyes to open slowly and he tries to snuggle more in place, needing the warmth of the blankets, which made him feel smaller than he was.

—Harry, honey. Get up, you have to go to school. —He heard his mother's voice coming from the other side of the door. —Harry, wake up! Come on, baby. I made breakfast. —Then a few steps on the stairs and, seconds later,  _ Dominique _ being played again, again and again.

The curly boy feels a look on him as he tries to fall asleep again, and remembers falling asleep in full darkness, with the Devil standing in front of his bed, just watching him. His eyes burn from falling asleep crying, and the beeping in his ear makes him mad.

But at least his soul is still in his body.

As soon as his huge green eyes open, he notices a black figure sitting beside him. He watched for a few seconds each ring on the Devil's long fingers, noticing the rare symbols that barely shone. He was afraid to look up his face, but when he did he simply met a firm look, and the most beautiful man in existence with a serious countenance.

He tried not to look at his eyes because the beeping in his ear increased.

—Did I scare you? —Both eyebrows of the archangel raise, and his tone is so sarcastic that Harry has to bite his tongue hard and remember that he is an infernal being so as not to respond in the same way.

The curly boy slowly denies before sighing and sitting on the bed slowly. He was disheveled, his eyes burned and he still felt unwell. He looked at the Devil again, who was trying to look at his eyes.

—Good morning. —He said, and leaned toward the human.

Harry's breathing stopped and his body began to shake, fearing what might happen. But, of course he would never have expected a soft kiss on his cheek from the most vile being on the planet.

Still looking down, he clenched his lips and blushed, causing the Devil to smirk.

—Pure… like poison. —He simply said.

—Harry! —A few knocks made him look at the door, and he didn't even have to turn around to know that the Devil was no longer there.

He sighed and stood up, taking his school uniform and going to the bathroom after telling his mother he was awake.

It took a while to bathe knowing that the Devil was there, somewhere hidden, watching him. He showered quickly, washing his body well, seeking to feel, somehow, good.

_ It didn’t work. _

When he got out, he dried and dressed. Black shoes, pants of the same color, a buttoned white shirt and a blue sweater with the logo of the institute. His little curls were wet, and he continued to look like a dead child.

He was getting used to it, and it had only been a few days after the invocation. It sounded strange to comment, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to have the Devil stalking you anywhere.

Having finished, he went to his room and prepared his backpack with his homework. He noticed that there were things he hadn’t finished, and as he lamented he began to think of a way to ask for the answers to Fionn Whitehead, his class and choir mate.

He climbed the steps of the basement with the backpack straps hanging on his little shoulders, tried to avoid the song and walked to the kitchen, sitting in a chair, with his breakfast at the table and his sister on a chair in front.

After his mother gave him a  _ good morning _ kiss, he began to drink his tea and eat the bread with jam. He heard a sound but continued, until a piece of bread was thrown to his face.

—Ouch! —He complained, trying not to throw a tantrum but with a little pout on his lower lip.

Watching the scene, his mother turned to the record player in the living room and turned off the music.

—Do you not hear me? —His sister told him, somewhat angry but at the same time frowning with concern.

—Oh, I’m sorry. I... —He brought one of his fingers to his left ear, trying to remove deafness. No, everything remained the same. —...Uhm, my ear clogged in the shower.

Anne puts her hands on her waist before sighing deeply, staring at her son. He does the same and his heart skips a beat when he sees the violet bruise on the skin of his mother's face.

—Mommy, what happened to you? —Harry couldn’t help but ask. He was no longer sure he wanted to avoid the issue.

—This? Oh, you know how I am, Hazzie. I trip with everything. —Anne said, beginning to sing  _ Dominique _ while cleaning a countertop.

Gemma and Harry stared at each other for a few seconds before the oldest of them decided to speak.

—Mom... Are you sure you hit yourself?

Anne snorted. —Yes, and the subject is over. —Both children were crestfallen, no longer wanting their mother to scold them. —Harry, honey. Do you feel good? You're pale.

Harry nodded in response, finishing his tea in a big sip. —I didn't sleep very well last night. —He simply said.

And although he is completely certain that he had slept, without opening his eyes for a moment, he feels as if he had never slept.

—Do you want to stay? You can, I believe you.

The curly boy quickly shook his head, standing up.  _ No, of course not. _ He no longer wanted to be alone anymore. He took an apple and took a bite.

—No, I can’t. I have an exam today. —He kissed his mother's cheek and then his sister’s. A horn became audible outside the house and Harry adjusted the straps of his backpack before leaving the kitchen. —Bye!

—Take care, honey!

Once he left the house, he climbed into the back seats and greeted his father while buckling his seatbelt. The man drove and chatted with Harry, as usual. It was very easy for him to talk to his father, they could talk about anything and it would be fine.

It was sudden, as soon as his father reaffirmed the grip on the wheel, that Harry - _ for some reason _ \- could hear the bones of his thundering fingers. A slight feeling that he didn’t understand settled in his chest, and it soon grew. Whatever his father told him didn't matter anymore. What's more, he didn't even wanted to keep hearing his disgusting voice, he wanted them to collide and a truck to crush the front, where he was. He wanted to...

He swallowed hard and heard a voice in his mind.

**_Tell him, tell him. You’re dying to tell him._ ** ****

Images of his mother's bruises were present in his mind, as were the times when he heard loud blows and his father insulted Anne. He watched him drive, entertained in a talk he wasn’t listening, and felt so disgusted, so full of hatred and helplessness that he could barely blink.

**_Tell him._ ** ****

—Finally we can get the carpets we wanted for home. So your uncle will have no more opt-

—Son of a bitch.

—...Harry? —His father couldn’t believe what had come out of his son's mouth, he even thought he had hallucinated it.

The Devil smiled.

—Fucking coward.

The car stopped near the sidewalk, in front of the  _ Norgaard _ Institute. Des turned slowly in the seat and stared at the curly-haired boy, who didn't even breathe.

—Do you want to repeat to me once again what you told me? —He said, believing that the boy wasn’t going to dare to say one of the previous insults. He was still surprised, unable to believe it.

—...Fucking son of a bitch —He didn't hesitate. He didn't even feel himself, rather, he felt the cry of helplessness trapped in his throat. He felt his sweaty back and his trembling hands.

Des simply watched him before getting out of the car and opening the door to his son, who stayed in his seat a few seconds before getting out of the car, feeling the cold creep his bones. His father closed the door tightly and brought his face close to the child, facing each other.

—Go to school. —He said in a dry tone of voice before turning, getting into the car, turning it on and accelerating calmly.

It was immediately that his anger began to go away and the lump in his throat descended that he wished with all his heart to be dead so as not to face what would happen after school.

Anxiety broke in his chest as his huge green eyes begged for tears. His breathing was shortened as he looked around before walking quickly to school.

He didn't even notice not having vomited when he entered a supposedly religious place, his mind only told him one thing.  _ Bathroom _ . He needed to get to the bathroom, lock himself up and find a way to get rid of the huge problem he caused.

His path was blocked by a thin boy with a serious countenance and a marked jaw. Fionn Whitehead.

—Hey, Harry. —He simply said.

—H-Hi Fionn. —His jaw was shaking, it was impossible not to stutter while heading with the boy somewhere.

—How are you?

—...Good. You?

—Awesome. Did you do something this week?

_ Besides invoking the Devil? No, nothing. _

—Uhm… no. You?

—I was with my grandmother. I met her. She's great. —He said. The bell rang through the halls and all the students hurried. —Let’s go to class?

—Yes, I... I’ll catch you, I need to go to the bathroom

—Okay. —He nodded quickly before walking until he entered a door to his respective class.

Harry, on the other hand, followed the white halls full of paintings and statues of saints. There was silence, only the teachers were heard teaching in each classroom, and when he entered the bathroom the silence was deafening.

He checked that there was no one in the cabins and then approached the sink, leaning on the ceramic countertop and looking in the huge long mirror. He breathed deeply a couple of times and disheveled his little curls, looking for a way to relax.

Anxiety didn’t stop hurting in his chest, and it was when he sobbed dryly that the tears came out. He began to cry inconsolably, trembling with fear and taking only one step until his back hit the cold tiles on the wall.

The presence of the evil personified was immediate, and he didn’t even have to open his eyes to know that he was facing him. He did it only when he felt two warm and huge hands taking his face, raising it a little.

—Sh, sh, sh. —He tried to silence him, cleaning with his thumbs the traces of tears on the soft and pale skin of the child. —Is my favorite boy scared? —Harry nodded quickly and the Devil shook his head with a sigh, as if regretting. —How can he be scared, when he has done worse things than disrespect?

Harry hiccupped, shooking his head slowly, still sobbing. —Y-You don’t understand. I, h-he...

—I understand completely. Your dear father deserved those words from you. You know why? —Harry shook his head slowly. —Because you are what he loves most.

—...He’s a good father.

—He hits your mother.

—He’s still a good father.

The archangel slowly stroked the boy's cheeks. —Is a good father someone who teaches their children badly and knows it? —Harry looked down, sadder.

They remained silent for a few seconds until the curly-haired boy decided to speak.  —... _ Mister Devil _ ?

A deep, low laugh sprang from the named's lips. 

—Mister Devil, I like it. Very original. —He commented, and Harry blushed more than he already was.

—I'm sorry, I... I don't know what to call you.

Lucif...?

—Louis.

The boy blinked. Honestly, he didn’t expected that. He expected a longer, more strange, unique name. Louis was common, so much so that if the people he knew that had the same name knew that it was the name of the Devil, they'd shit themselves.

—But... but that’s not really your name, right?

—How do you think my name is?

—I... —He noticed Louis's look go to his eyes, and continued trying to keep his gaze fixed on the floor. —...I thought it was Satan. —He whispered, invaded by shame.

—They call me by many names. You call me Louis.

—Louis. —He swallowed loudly. The closeness between him and the Devil was too much. He couldn't help looking up: His eyes met those of the king of the underworld, the beeping was much more powerful and unbearable. He quickly looked down. —I-I… should go to class.

The bell rang, announcing that he had missed the first class. How long had he been in there? He knew that the Devil was gone without even having to look. He washed his hands, his face, adjusted his hair and left the bathroom.

The day was going pretty well. If it wasn't because Harry was expecting everything except something good when he got home, he would say it was a perfect day. The bullies had decided not to disturb him that day, he did well in class and had things to talk to Fionn.

Finally they were in choir class, both teenagers in their respective places. They had to sing an old melody, in another language, and it was quite difficult for students who said whatever or couldn’t stop joking making sounds of flatulence. The teacher was disgusted, but he couldn't help laughing from time to time.

—Okay, class. I want to make an important announcement so, please, I need your attention. —After a few murmurs and a few laughs everyone was silent, watching the older man who lead the whole choir group. He went to his desk and took a bunch of sheets with something written on them, returning to where he previously was. —I’ll give one of these sheets to each of you and you should show them to your parents. It is a permit to go with two teachers, including me, and seniors to a small coexistence for a few hours. It will be in the nearest forest here. We will talk about many things to learn, we will teach you how to survive and how we should live together. If your parents or guardians don’t give you permission, simply do not turn in the paper. Without paper, you cannot come. If you have any questions you can come and consult with me or with Professor Howell, from senior literature. Now, I hope you have a good day and God bless you.

All the students took a paper and left that room. It was time to go home and Harry couldn't be more nervous. Fionn walked beside him through the halls as he looked sideways at the paper in his own hand and slowly shook his head. —My goodness. He won't let me, my father is very protective. He says I'm crazy, that I smoke and drink when he's not around.

The curly boy’s eyebrows rose. —Do you?

—...That's not the point. The point is that I’ll have to beg him to let me go. —The teenager huffed, annoyed.

—I’m sorry, Fionn. —Once they were out of high school, his heart skipped a beat as soon as he saw his father's car, but with his mother in it, who was looking ahead. —I… I have to go. S-see you tomorrow.

—Bye, Harry.

Both teenagers took different paths. Harry hastened his pace as soon as he noticed that his mother was starting the car. He climbed into the passenger seat and looked down. Everything was silent. The curly boy assumed that his mother had already heard of his attitude.

—M-mom...

His mother looked up suddenly, her eyes wide open. She was angry. And not only that. She was beaten, too. Had... had his father beaten her because he insulted him?

Harry started sobbing before his mother started yelling at him.

—How could you said that to your father? How can you disrespect someone who raises and feeds you, and keeps you under a roof? —She pointed at him with her index finger. —You have never missed anything! He has given you everything! He gives you everything you want, Harry. What could he have done for you to tell him those terrible things?

Harry couldn't stop sobbing, each time shrinking more in his seat, feeling the tears flow nonstop. —I-I, I...

—You are ungrateful. I don't want you to talk like that ever again. You’ll receive a punishment for this and the conversation ends here, okay? —Harry nods immediately while buckling his seat belt. —You need discipline.

And he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why his mother makes him feel that his life depends on a man. He doesn’t understand why his mother lives as if she were following him. He doesn't understand, and he doesn't want to... and he can't.

Finally the car accelerates and they go home.

Harry screamed and tried to close his mouth every time the belt buckle hit the skin of his back. They were ten, but his father, blinded by anger, didn’t hesitate to give him one more under his left eye. Now it was purple, and the boy's back burned like a thousand hells.

He was lying on his side on his bed, feeling the tears fall slowly. There was a cup of hot chocolate on his bedside table, and he had been swaddle by his mother. He received an apology from his father, who told him that he must be disciplined, that God wasn’t going to open the doors of heaven if the child became a bad person.

Slowly he begins to feel unwell, and the bed moves behind him. Louis is lying behind him, his breath brushes the child's ear, who begins to sob audibly.

—Tell me what you want me to do.

—M-my back, it hurts... —He broke down crying louder, feeling immense sadness inside.

_ He didn't want to be bad. He wanted to go to heaven, but he couldn't anymore. _

He froze as soon as he felt the Devil's warm hand sneak under his pajama shirt, str oking the skin of his hip. His hand climbed slowly up his rib and unexpectedly positioned on his back, over the wounds.

Air escaped from the boy's lungs, beginning to feel burning, but it vanished immediately and his back stopped hurting

—Turn around. —He said.

Harry did it slowly, doubting if he should because he feared he was hallucinating, that his back wasn’t really healed and when he leaned against the mattress he would die of pain.

But it wasn’t like that. He felt completely normal.

When face to face with the Devil, without looking at him directly in the eyes, he felt his thumb under his eye, on the wound. He stroked a couple of times and the pain went away immediately, although he wasn't sure if the bruise did too.

—I could make sure no one ever hurts you again... Ever —Louis said, lowering his hand to Harry's cheek and gently stroking it. It was strange that the Devil made him feel good, even with the discomfort around him. —You just have to say my name. Call me, and I'll do something about it.

—O-okay.

They remained silent. It was late at night. Harry hadn't had dinner, and they continued the same way.

—I can’t sleep... —The little one whispered, although he was completely sleepy, almost falling into Morpheus' arms.

The Devil raised his hand to Harry's curls, tested them between his fingers and began to caress them slowly, hearing a babble from the owner of those curls and then hearing a heavy breath and snoring.

He was asleep.

The Devil enveloped him with his arms, sheltering him in his chest and inhaled, slowly absorbing his soul.


	7. V. "Heart Attack"

His eyes were open, but he couldn't move his body. It was like his body was asleep and his mind was awake, alert to what could happen.

The towering figure covered by a black cape that was in the corner of his room was the same one he saw on the road when that accident happened on the way to the church. It was still there, as if watching him under all that darkness. It slowly approached the boy and bent over until it was close to his ear.

The thing began whispering so low that it could barely be heard, even if it was right by his ear. He spoke in another language, that was noticeable. Harry felt chills, the need to take a deep breath, but he felt someone on top of him. A dead weight. His eyes were watery, his voice wouldn't come out to call his mother, and he began to get desperate.

Finally in a blink he began to have control of his body. He looked around in tears and that huge dark thing was no longer there, it had vanished just like the weight on his body. He sobbed in fear and turned to the other side when he felt a breath on the back of his neck. The Devil watched him without any kind of expression, completely neutral while the child sobbed, still half asleep and full of panic that he refused to show.

—You had sleep paralysis. —Louis said, taking one of his hands covered with many gold rings towards the child's cheek, wiping his tears and pulling the rebellious curls away from his forehead.

Harry hiccupped before snuggling shyly against the torso of the king of the underworld, who didn’t hesitate to wrap the tiny human body in his arms. Both were silent for a few seconds before the youngest sighed deeply.

—Does anyone save themselves from going to hell? —he asked barely audible, fearing the answer he would surely receive.

—No. That's why people don't often make pacts with me. —The entity said with some humour, caressing the child's back with his middle finger. —And you… surprised me.

—I did?

—You enchanted me. I'd never seen anything so pure look so good when doing an invocation ritual.

Harry's cheeks began to burn fiercely, his body froze and his mind traveled to the moment he decided to sink under the water... half-naked.

He also remembered when Louis confirmed that he had been the body that drowned him with his weight. But it had been dark, and the Devil couldn't see in the dark...

Or could he?

Did the Devil really watch him all the time? Did he watch as he rubbed soap on his skin under the artificial rain of his bathroom? He assumed so because every time Louis was around he felt discomfort and protection, a strange sensation and a pleasant warmth. Luckily they couldn't look into each other's eyes, because if they could, after Harry learned that the archangel who was wrapping him in his arms had probably seen his intimate parts, he would die of shame before he could take his soul.

—Have you taken the soul of someone important?

Louis slowly nodded at the innocent question of his favorite boy. —I've taken many important people's souls.

—What was the last one?

—Marilyn Monroe. —Harry's blood froze.

If he wasn't the Devil, he would have kicked him out of his house, not before telling him how bad that had made him feel.  _ Marylin Monroe! _ His role model had secretly sold her soul to this beautiful Devil! She was sweet, and fragile. Just like him.

The Devil didn't care.

That hurt Harry a little bit, because he had been living with Louis for days and knew he was fond of him. Yes, he had a crush on the Devil himself. It was impossible not to because it wasn't just his beautiful appearance, it was also the way he made him feel. He loved how protected he felt, he loved the way he wiped each one of his tears, he loved the way his warm, strong arms wrapped around him.

He wasn't a fool, though.

Lately it was very cold, he didn't sleep well at all, all he could see when he closed his eyes were nightmares and his ear wouldn't stop beeping as if the sharpest string of a violin was being played again and again in the most irritating way. Not to mention the obvious rejection of all that had to do with God, his mood swings, and the rage that grew when he talked to his father.

He knew something was wrong with him. It was as if his soul was moving from his body little by little. He tried not to think everyday about the fact that, at some point, he was going to be nothing but a desperate soul trapped in the little red spot inside one of the Devil's eyes.

And it hurt.

—Harry, I'm going to teach you something. Every time someone asks for me, they know I'll take their soul. It's like in the real world, every time someone asks someone else for something they always want something in return, but you have to trust whether or not they'll do it, and you can't ask someone whatever you want. With me it's different, that's why it's hard to summon me.

—I don't even know exactly what I asked for.

—You asked for it, and you keep asking, unconsciously. But I'm not going to tell you, I'm just going to fulfill it.

Harry didn't insist because he felt he was demanding to know too much. He just decided to ask one last question:

—Lou… Louis? —He corrected quickly, blushing at having nicknamed the Devil. He shouldn't treat him so confidently. —Is there any way I don't feel so bad? I feel... uhm. I feel like I'm going to faint at any moment but I never do.

Louis shook his head slowly. —It's part of this to feel like that. You'll get used to it.

—It's strange. I feel bad in myself but I feel good when I'm close to you, like... protected.

The big hand full of rings of the entity took the child's chin, lifting it. The latter closed his eyes because he couldn't bear looking into his eyes. He didn't want to move away and, besides, the Devil took the opportunity to admire the features of the human's beautiful face. He was like a precious and fragile porcelain doll.

—That's because I'm here. Remember my words, call me and I'll do something about it. —Harry felt Louis' breath on his lips, his breath stopped but returned as soon as he felt a kiss on his forehead before he took his hand away from his chin and wrapped him with both arms again. —Little one, it's time to dream.

Minutes later, Harry went back to sleep and relived all the disturbing nightmares in his mind, even as he rested in peace.

—Good morning. —The curly boy announces as soon as he enters the kitchen.

—Good morning, darling. —His mother answers with her back to him, cutting slices of bread pudding and putting them in small, pretty floral dishes. —How did you sleep? —She turned with one of the plates in her hand. —God bless... —Her voice broke and the plate fell to the ground, shattering in a second, all caused by her son's appearance.

He looked tiny and thin as always, but his lips were the color of a sheet, just like his face. The hematoma under his eye from her husband's blows was still there, but he also had dark circles under his eyes. He didn't look healthy at all, and a knot installed itself in Anne's throat when she remembered the change of temperature in her son's body and that the doctor had said that if anything else happened they should come back and leave him for observation.

—Mommy! I'll get a broom. —The teenager said, leaving the room. He returned within seconds with the broom and a small shovel. —What happened? Why did you drop the plate like that? Did you hurt yourself? I'll get bandages!

Anne quickly stopped her son and they stared at each other before the woman shook her head slowly, not being able to believe how careless she had been with her son. She quickly wrapped him in her arms.

—Oh, darling! Are you all right? Why do you look like that? Let's have breakfast and go to the hospital, okay?

—No, no, no. I’m okay. —He quickly covered up the fact that his body was decaying like a corpse with a lie. —I'm fine, I've just slept very badly these past few days. —That was true.

His mother remained silent as he swept the glass quickly before throwing the pieces into the garbage. Soon his father came down the stairs and then his sister. They all sat down for breakfast, it was very early and they had to go to church, which worried Harry.

His father - _ like his mother _ \- asked him about his appearance, and the teenager replied exactly the same. He just ate his breakfast, drank his juice, and enjoyed the company of his family as if it were his last.

Everything was going strangely well.

He blinked a couple of times as soon as he noticed that it looked as if it was getting dark. But how? He just got up! He looked out at the nearest window in the kitchen and noticed the sky slightly cloudy, sunless, a bit dark. He pursed his lips and frowned slightly before turning his gaze forward, blinking rapidly.

Was it possible that everything literally became darker since Louis' arrival?

He heard how his family commented on the things they should do that day, and finally they talked about some commitments they had in church.

—Harry. —His father called, and he looked at him immediately. He looked worried. —We'll go to church, but you stay here and rest, okay? —Both nodded slowly. His mother looks calmer at that.

Above  _ Dominique _ the phone starts ringing. Her father apologizes before standing up and walking towards it. From his mother and sister's faces Harry can deduce that it's something strange, but the music and the beeping in his ear don't allow him to snoop around like the two women who kept him company.

Finally his father returns and stares at his family before sitting down and looking at his wife.

—Darling, my brother called me. He, Jacky and the children will be coming. He says he wants us to apologize for giving them bad food. —He sighs before putting his hand under his chin.

Anne quickly rests one of her hands on her husband's, and Harry tries to hide his urge to laugh by holding a cup of tea over his mouth as he drinks.

—Oh, love. Relax. We know we haven't done anything wrong. But if they want an apology to keep being a family, we will do it. Remember that God sees everything. —His wife advised. He thanked her with a slight smile.

—Please, as soon as you finish breakfast, go get dressed to receive the family. Anne, prepare the water for the tea and the tray with the bread pudding for the living room. Gemma, help your mother. Harry, you get some rest and come for a few minutes when your cousins arrive.

After receiving the orders, they continued eating breakfast and finally went to their respective rooms to get dressed.

Harry did it quickly, blushing and not being able to stop thinking that the Devil was around. It was cold outside, but since he was going to stay indoors he simply put on his long white socks, high draught shorts with black suspenders, white buttoned shirt and black shoes.

He looked at himself in the mirror for a few seconds, arranging his curls to one side and sighing. He looked awful. 

—Perfect, my favorite boy. —He smiled at Louis' voice and turned to the left, seeing him in a corner of the room with a small smile, which displayed everything but something good.

He approached Harry slowly, the latter watching through the mirror as the Devil wrapped him in his arms from behind and looked at each other through the reflection. His ear didn't bother him so much when they looked at each other like this, something Harry was grateful for, but he had to look away at one point anyway. The sound was unbearable.

—See how I look... —The curly one lamented in a low voice, noticing more and more the deterioration on his skin, eyes, body. Everywhere.

—You look excited to see your cousins. —He turned him in his arms, facing each other. —We are, aren't we? Let's see... What shall we do to them today?

Harry bit his lower lip, looking down. —I think we shouldn't do anything... —he commented, guilty. What Louis had done to them had been embarrassing enough.

Silence reigned for a few seconds in the room before the arms of the Devil wrapped themselves more posessively around the waist of the human, who raised his face, surprised and flushed. The entity brought his face closer to the one of the youngest, touching his lips with the other's soft cheek. The touch burned a little, but everything was warm around him.

—Call for me... and I'll do something about it.

_ Why didn't he stop repeating that? _

Once they heard the door open and different voices in their house both lifted their faces before looking at each other again. The Devil stared at him even though the little one didn't and finally let go of him, taking a few steps backwards and stopping. He looked intimidating, neutral and patient.

Harry just turned and walked out, up the steps and down the hallway to the living room, where his uncle, aunt and cousins, Brad, Ben and Bob, were about to sit. It was kind of funny that all names started with ‘ **B** ’, but Harry wouldn't admit it because he was a good person and didn't want to make fun of his family.

—Harry! Hello, dear. —His aunt opened her arms to her favorite nephew and the latter, enchanted, let himself be pampered with an adorable little smile. Jacky took the boy's face and looked at him with a frown. —Have you been eating well? Look at your beautiful face... What happened to your eye?

—I got hit playing. —He lied, stepping aside to greet the rest of his family. Unable to avoid it, he smiled excessively when he had to give kisses on the cheeks to his cousins, who fulminated him with their eyes while the boy sat on the sofa.

Harry's uncle, Joffrey Styles, stared at his brother, not even smiling a little. They were all seated and completely silent, just looking at each other.

—Would you... would you like some bread pudding? —Anne offered kindly.

—I want my apologies.

—Joffrey... —Jacky intervened, still frowning and looking disapprovingly at her husband. She directed her brown eyes at Anne and smiled kindly at her. —Of course, I'm sure it's delicious.

Anne was about to start serving, slightly uncomfortable, but noticed that she had forgotten the pretty little floral dishes in the kitchen. Harry immediately rose to his feet when he noticed the absence of these.

—I’ll go. —he said, trying to free himself from the uncomfortable family situation.

—Okay, baby. Don't forget the cutlery and tea spoons. Oh! Look in the fridge if there's any cake left, maybe nobody wants bread pudding. —His mother said.

—We’ll help him. —Brad said, standing up, followed by his two brothers, who smiled in a falsely harmless manner.

Harry pursed his lips, nervous as he walked towards the kitchen and felt the steps behind him. The door closed once he was inside and walked towards the counter, standing on his toes trying to reach the pantry saucers.  _ Dominique _ sounded comfortably in the hallway, and he couldn't help but hum.

A hand held his arm tightly, spinning him and making him look with both eyes wide open at Brad, who was menacingly leaning toward the curly boy.

—Look. I don't know what the fuck did you do the other day. —He started. Harry immediately raised both eyebrows.

—Me? W-what did I do?

—Don't play dumb. How do you think it's possible that it happened to all three of us at once? You are a wizard. —He accused, referring to when he and his brothers had soiled themselves at the same time.

Harry's brow frowned suddenly, annoyed but still nervous. He didn't like to be accused, even if, to some extent, it was true. —I'm none of that. —He whined because of the grip reaffirming on his poor arm which, surely, was already hurt.

—It's not a coincidence! You're a wizard and I'm going to tell your p... —A noise from a corner of the room interrupted him.

They all looked there, noticing that one of the crucifixes hanging on the wall had fallen to the ground. They were silent for a few seconds, and the grip on Harry's arm began to fade when all the crucifixes in the room began to tremble. Harry's cousins retreated, frightened.

—What’s happening? —Bob asked.

But unexpectedly...

...All the crosses turned sharply, giving a clear signal that there was nothing good in there.

—AAAAAAAAAAAAH!

—MOOOOOOM!

—WIZARD, WIZARD! WIZARD!

Harry's cousins left the room, closing the door behind them. Harry ran to the refrigerator as soon as he heard the voices of the rest of his family asking what had happened. He took the cake with one arm and with the other he quickly looked for cutlery in the second drawer of one of the countertops. He took the exact quantity and walked quickly to the door, watching the crosses turn quickly out of the corner of his eye.

As soon as he opened the door his cousins began to scream again, pointing at him and trying to hide behind his parents.

—HE IS ANTICHRIST!! —Ben screamed.

—THAT'S ENOUGH, ALL THREE OF YOU! —His uncle Joffrey raised his voice, watching his children. He was ashamed of his own offspring. —Your cousin is no antichrist. Stop bothering him and embarrassing your mother and me. I'm sick of you.

—Dad, we swear! —Bob tried to convince him and then he looked at Des. —He made all the crosses turn. We swear, honestly. Come on, let's go look. —He took his uncle's hand and the three dragged the Styles brothers into the kitchen.

—For God's sake. What happened, Harry? —Gemma asked, worried about the terrible attitude of her cousins.

Harry sat next to his aunt, who looked embarrassed. He looked at his sister with a neutral semblance. —While they were telling me nasty things a cross fell off and they got scared. —He lied. —Oh, shoot! I forgot the plates. —A little pout makes itself present in his lower lip. Her aunt laughs before saying that she would go for them, so she gets up and goes to the kitchen.

Minutes later they all come back. His uncle apologizes immediately for the terrible behavior of his children, and also for having accused his family of giving food in bad condition. Everything seems fine, except for the looks of his cousins on him. His aunt Jacky sees them and gives them a murderous look, causing them not to look at him for a long while.

Harry eats from his slice of cake while he notices Louis in a corner. He immediately looks at him and, despite the constant beeping in his left ear, it doesn't increase when he stares into his eyes.

Couldn it not be increased because of distance? Harry wishes he could look at them more closely, discover thousands of things inside those beautiful blue eyes with a quarter of red. Both are staring at each other, and the child feels fear, but also a desperate need to be wrapped up in the arms of the king of darkness.

And he never believed that he would find himself in that situation, wishing for something as crazy as that.

He limited himself to look into Louis' eyes for a long time. He looked back and slowly smirked. It was then that Harry looked forward to his family and noticed his sister frowning. Immediately his cheeks turned red and he looked down at his slice of cake, finishing and leaving the plate on the coffee table in front of him to take a big sip of his chamomile tea. Finally he sat upright, politely, and tried to listen to his family' conversation but, again, they were talking about God.

A whistling without melody makes itself present, Harry seems to be the only one who hears it so he looks for Louis, who is behind his cousins, who were paranoidly looking around him, frightened. Ben, however, stares at Harry, who tries to conceal the fact that he is noticing something behind his relatives.

**_“Tell me what you want to happen to them.”_ ** He hears in his head. **_“...Come on. It'll be fun.”_ **

The first thing that crosses Harry's head is the word " **scare** ," and the Devil smiles at it. He doesn't smile because it was evil, because compared to what he's done throughout his existence, that's stupid. He smiles because of the true innocence that is attached to the soul of his favorite boy.

Without losing sight of the latter, he slowly leans towards Ben's right ear, which is the most paranoid of the three. The eyes of the entity become dark, his pupils dilate and the smile that he directs the child is so creepy that it makes his skin bristle.

Without further ado, a too serious and somewhat distorted " **Boo** " comes out of the Devil's mouth. Ben practically flies off the couch, screaming and starting to cry. Harry stays in his seat, frightened by the way Louis' eyes became, and his voice...

The beautiful ocean in his eyes was gone, now there was only a dark pit full of souls.

It was then, finally, that Joffrey decided it was time to take his children home, but not before suspiciously watching his nephew, who immediately looked away.

Guilt. That's what it was.

When his aunt, uncle and cousins left, Harry helped his mother clean up the whole place, hearing his parents comment on the strange behavior of his nephews. Gemma had finished preparing to go to church, and Harry commented that he wanted to get some sleep before noon and have to go to school. His mother again offered to stay at home, but he refused.

Finally when he was alone he simply went down to the basement, to his room. He closed the door behind him and turned, looking around.

He never wanted to see Louis like that again, ever again, and although he was afraid to call him, he needed his arms wrapped around him... Even if that was asking too much of the Devil.

—L-Louis?

—Little one. —Harry looked to the side of his room when he heard the voice coming from there, and his heart began to beat normally as soon as he noticed the entity's eyes back to normal. —Don't tell me that what I smell on you is...? —He approached as he started that question, looking straight ahead. He took him by the waist and inclined his face to the child's neck, inhaling deeply. Harry's skin bristled. —Guilt. —He affirmed.

Harry lowered his gaze as soon as the Devil stared at him. He was ashamed of himself, of his behaviour.

—They are... They're just dumb teenagers. They don't know what they're doing. —He defended his family, even without having to, because he knew they made his life almost impossible.

—Like I said, you’re pure. —The Devil repeats, and a sly smile arose on his lips. —I noticed it in your eyes when you kept looking at me.

Harry's cheeks burned like hell itself, but he couldn't help smiling just a little while his heart pounded quickly. —I... I think I want to get some sleep. —He tilted his head as soon as Louis pulled back a little.

The latter extended his hand full of rings to the boy, and Harry took it without hesitation, noticing that they fitted perfectly. The Devil led him to bed, sat him down, and leaned over only to slowly remove his shoes and socks. He stood up again as the human laid down on the bed, leaving a space for the entity who didn't hesitate, and also laid down, encircling the child's body with one of his arms.

They were both close, and although Louis stared at him as he stroked the curls on his forehead, the boy could just stare at the Devil's thick fingers. In the blink of an eye, a few quick images were present: Forest, tree, hand with rings, window and snow. He frowned in confusion before his eyes closed, exhausted.

—Have I met you before? —he asked with the little strength he had.

He heard a hoarse laugh, and fell asleep with these last words in his head:

—I have guarded your soul even before it was in your body, and it has  **always** been mine.

Fionn and Harry came out of choir class with their papers in hand. The first named quickly approaches a trash can in the hallway, tears up the denied authorization and throws it away before kicking into the air and returning to the side of his companion, who was looking straight ahead with his gaze lost somewhere.

—It's not fair. It was going to be an incredible trip. —Fionn complained. He couldn't believe they hadn't given him permission to go on the excursion. He had done everything they told him!

—I’m sorry, Fionn. —He said, still a little absent.

He felt everything was going well, even better than before. He didn't feel the uneasiness, and when he had gone to the bathroom he noticed in his reflection that he looked much better than before. When he woke up to go to school Louis wasn't there, and during the nap he took he not only slept perfectly, he also dreamed beautifully and all.

Everything seemed to go exactly as before, except for the fact that he felt a big, big,  _ biiiig _ void inside. And all for the remarkable absence of Louis. He didn't even notice him out of the corner of his eye, he wanted to cry.

—So do I! There was going to be a bonfire, we were going to hang out in the woods. We were going to swim. We were going to swim in the winter! Do you get that?

Harry woke up from his trance when he heard that.  _ Swim? Oh, no. No, no, no. _

—I can't swim. —He confessed.

—Well, I would have taught you if I was there! —Fionn sighed in frustration.

Once outside, they stayed at the entrance waiting for their respective parents to pick them up. Harry again noticed that the sun was out of sight, yet he could see its light on Fionn's skin. He, on the other hand, had nothing but shadow.

—Harry, no offense, but I've been meaning to ask you something all day. —Fionn says, turning around so he can look at the curly boy, who feels he's done something wrong. Lately he feels that all the time. —Why do you look like shit?

Harry blushes at the insult and accommodates his curls to the side. —Oh, I haven't slept well these days, and that usually ruins me. —He lies.

—What about the bruise on your eye?

—I hit myself. —Another lie.

Fionn raises both eyebrows before shaking his head. —Harry, more than half the town gets harsh discipline from their parents for bad behavior. Believe me, I get hit all the time. —His tone is gloomy. Finally he faces forward and laughs with remarkable sarcasm. —I really hope that in the next few centuries our punishments will be seen as abuse, and will also be illegal. Can you imagine? I would get rich.

—Fionn, it's 1967. I don't think we will be alive for the next few centuries.

—Don't break my heart like that, Harry. —Both boys laugh.

They finally say goodbye because Fionn's father pulled over with his car near the sidewalk. Once the car accelerated Harry sighed deeply, closing his eyes.

An uneasiness settles unexpectedly in his chest, the beeping in his ear increases a little and once he opens his eyes, he sighs again - _ now in relief _ \- when he notices the Devil from the corner of his eye.

—Lou. —He says, calmer. He is no longer afraid to use the nickname.

—My favorite boy. How were you without me?

—I didn't see you when I woke up.

—I had to go down for some business.

The child's brow frowned, not understanding. —Dow...? —He doesn't finish his question because he understands it almost immediately.  _ Go down, hell. Of course! _ —Oh. Well... Everything all right?

—Of course.

Harry noticed his father's car arriving with his mother driving. She had a wide smile, the curly boy just looks at her for a few seconds before sighing again.

—I missed you. —He says, clearly addressing the Devil before he begins to walk quickly to his mother's car.

Once he gets on, being bombarded with questions about how his day was and so on, he feels comfortable going home with Louis guarding him.

Once Anne and Harry arrive at the house, she begins to happily comment on preparing lasagna for dinner. On the way to the living room she tells her son that she will make tea and something to eat for snack, but the conversation stops as soon as she notices Des, Gemma and Brad sitting on the room's largest sofa. His cousin smiles at him, his sister is teary-eyed, and his father seems to be about to kill him.

_...What was going on? _

He and his mother look at each other before looking forward, confused.

—Harry, sit down. —His father says calmly.  **_Oh, no._ ** That tone...

Harry immediately walks to the sofa in front of his family, it's an individual one so he doesn't hesitate to do it. He takes off his backpack and puts it at his feet and then places his hands intertwined on his lap, looking fearfully at his father, who doesn't change his expression.

Finally Des rises his hand, holding in it two cigarette butts and one half-smoked. There was also a lighter. —What is this?

The child blinks, perplexed. He has never seen his father holding a cigarette, it's strange. He swallows before answering. —C-cigarettes? —He stutters, afraid of saying something wrong.

His father abruptly stands from the sofa and takes a few steps toward his son, bending over to intimidate him and bringing the cigarettes closer to the child's face.

—Will you repeat what you just said to me?

Harry looks around, looking for his mother with his eyes, seeing his sister then and finally his cousin, who covers his lips to try not to laugh. Sweet, sweet revenge.

His green eyes fill with tears before he stares again at his father, whose face is red and his hand trembles.

—D-dad, what’s going on? —He swallows the sob that was coming, trying to be brave.

A deep grunt comes out of his father's mouth before he grabs him by the sleeve of his shirt, abruptly lifting him from the individual sofa and dragging him to the kitchen, without bothering to close the door. He puts him in front of him and waves the cigarettes in his face.

—You want to know what's going on? —He laughs dryly. —The disrespectful son of mine smokes secretly as if he were a traitor! A sinner!

Anne enters the kitchen, beginning to cry. She knew she couldn't control her husband this time. She never could.

—Des, please…

—Shut your mouth, Anne! You... —He points at Harry with an index finger, taking a deep breath before exhaling sharply, shaking his head. —I can't believe you can still look at my face.

—That’s not mine. —Harry quickly responds with a trembling voice, pursing his lips and squinting as his father begins to shake him from his T-shirt.

—IT WAS IN YOUR ROOM, YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE WHO SPENDS ALL THAT TIME THERE!

—I haven't put that there! I swear. I would never do that. —Tears begin to fall down his face. He's afraid, he wants to go to his room and take refuge in the arms of...

—YOU'VE EMBARRASSED ME IN FRONT OF OUR FAMILY! IN FRONT OF GOD'S EYES. WHAT DO YOU THINK THE CHURCH WILL SAY ABOUT THIS? —He again waves the cigarettes in the child's face. —YOU THINK THEY'LL ACCEPT A LOUSY SMOKER AND SINNER?

—I don't smoke! Believe me!

—I can't believe a brat. You said horrible things to me the other day. —The grip on Harry's arm grows. —Do you need more discipline?

—Des, please. He hasn’t…

—SHUT YOUR MOUTH! —A painful groan comes out of Anne's lips as Des releases his son and his palm strikes hard against his wife's cheek.

Harry retreats quickly, starting to sob louder, frightened. Gemma appears through the door frame, analyzing the situation and approaching her mother, hugging her and looking at her father in an accusatory way, full of anger, not knowing exactly what to do.

Des blinks for a few seconds before turning his eyes to his son. His nostrils widens before approaching and taking Harry's curls, dragging him out of the kitchen. The boy can hear his mother's sobs and his sister's screams, telling him to stop.

His feet stumble on the stairs at the pain he feels in his scalp, he is drowning in his own crying and his eyesight gets a little darker. He blinks quickly when he notices after a few seconds that he is in his parents' room, sitting on the tip of their bed. He locks the door and turns to look at his son. He looks calm, and if Harry didn't know him well it would look as if he was going to apologize.

His father throws the cigarette butts to the floor and takes the one that is halfway into his mouth, lighting it thanks to the lighter in his room. Harry tries to stop choking on his tears, ignoring the pain in his scalp and watching his father in horror, watching him light the cigarette before taking it out of his mouth and exhaling the smoke.

Both of them look at each other for a few seconds, Harry tries to keep quiet, but he knows what's going to happen. Des takes a step forward before putting the cigarette upright and says:

—Extend your arm.

Harry's sobs return as he quickly shakes his head, backing up a bit on the bed weakly. —N-no, no. I didn’t d-do it.

—Extend your arm. —His father repeats, continuing to advance towards him.

—No, no.

Everything happens too fast. Des takes Harry's arm roughly but the latter kicks him in the stomach, pushing him away. He feels like he's out of breath, he can't believe this is happening.

—LOUIS! LOUIS, LOUIS!

Only the first call was necessary. His father was advancing toward him but, suddenly, he was motionless. He exhaled and tried to inhale, but it wasn't easy. He held one hand to his chest as he released the cigarette, and within seconds he was collapsing on the floor.

**_“Call me and I'll do something about it.”_ **

A heart attack, that was the Devil's work.


	8. VI. "The Castrati"

Hearing the heartbroken cry of a desperate mother who had lost her son in the hospital waiting room was no comfort to Harry Styles, who trembled in the arms of his older sister, who stroked his lovely curls with one hand and tried to comfort him, telling him that nothing that had happened was his fault.

_ It was definitely all his fault. _

He might as well have endured a couple of burns on his skin, because they were nothing compared to a heart attack. It wouldn't have passed from a punishment, because his father would never hurt him seriously...

_ Wouldn’t he? _

Both siblings looked at the door as soon as it opened and their mother came out with a small smile. Harry didn't know if it was good or bad. Anne approached her children, taking a seat on Gemma's side and looking at them.

—Kids, don't cry. Your dad is fine, he's going to recover. —She kissed both her children's foreheads. —You have to pray and God will fix everything. He will be under observation tonight, and he is going to recover little by little. He shouldn't get upset, and he should eat healthy. We'll take care of him, don't worry.

Despite his mother's small smile and Gemma's deep sigh, Harry was shaking like a sheet of paper, and had the color of it. He was sick, dizzy, upset...

—Gemma, darling. Take Harry to the cafeteria. —She said at the same time that she gave money to the eldest of the siblings. —Buy him a hot chocolate and a donut. Buy yourself something too, it's a very cold night. I'll stay here, make sure your brother is okay.

Gemma nodded and helped her brother stand up and walk out of the waiting room. They toured the hospital until they finally reached the cafeteria. It was almost empty except for a few elderly people in corner seats, drinking coffee cups and chatting quietly. Gemma left her brother in a corner table seat and stroked his curls.

—I won't be long, stay here. —She told him before she went to order food.

Harry shrugged, feeling smaller than he was as he continued to tremble. He was dying of cold, he was dying of fear...

...He was dying to stay in Louis' arms. He didn't feel safe, he was unprotected, and so nervous that he could barely see him out of the corner of his eye.

_ It was his fault. _ His father had had a heart attack, they would no longer be able to look at each other in the face. His family would be suspicious of him, wonder who  **_"Louis"_ ** was, accuse him, and then beat him to death. His soul was going to be snatched away in the worst possible way, and even knowing that he would end up in hell, he never stopped feeling the desire to be wrapped in the Devil's arms.

_ He wanted it so badly, he needed that, and more.  _ **_He needed..._ **

The cups being brusquely placed on the table startled him, interrupting his thoughts and huddling more against his seat. His sister sat down in front of him and put the plate with the four huge chocolate doughnuts in the middle.

—Eat, Harry. —She basically ordered him.

He wasn't going to deny it, he was hungry. But he felt that he would vomit at any moment. The guilt didn't get out of his system, if only it could go away with the vomit...

Trying to stop thinking he took a deep breath before sitting up straight and taking a donut, taking a bite and chewing slowly. His sister sighed and drank her coffee with cream, licking her lips afterwards.

—Harry. —She called, but he continued to look down, chewing. —I know you think it's your fault b-

—It is. —The boy interrupted. His voice barely came out. He swallowed the food in his mouth and left the doughnut on the table, delicately taking his cup and blowing the contents before taking a sip, feeling the chocolate burning in his chest.

—Of course it's not.. —Gemma quickly contradicted. —Dad's violent. You know it, Mom knows it, I know it. Fuck, he knows it. —Harry looked up at the insult. He didn't know his sister cursed. —I'm sorry. The point is... it's not punishment. He makes us believe it's a punishment and... God bless, it's not.

—Gemma. N-no... —He took another deep breath, trying to calm his body.  _ He couldn't _ . —...Please, let's not talk about this. I'm trying... I'm trying not to shake.

—Are you cold? It's because you're always underdressed. You don't wear long pants. It's autumn, Harry. Do you want me to go home and get a coat? I can go with the car.

He didn't need a coat. He needed his arms.

—No, no. I... I need to go to the bathroom, will you excuse me? —As soon as his sister nodded, he took one last sip of the cup and stood up, leaving the cafeteria.

He walked quickly in search of a bath. He knew it wasn't a time when someone would be there, which was good for him. He had started to cry silently, just knowing that he would feel Louis' arms he could almost feel the protection.

Once he found it, he entered without hesitation and closed the door behind him. He looked around and approached the cubicles, noticing that none were occupied. Immediately he began to weep loudly.

—Louis? —He turned as soon as he felt a shadow passing by. He immediately walked towards the Devil when he saw him standing in front of him, and embraced him by the torso, without fearing his beautiful but inexpressive semblant. He began to sob madly as soon as he felt the arms of the Devil wrap around him, at first, with difficulty. —Louis. I-I can't stop shaking...

—Sh, sh. —The archangel tries to calm him down, reaffirming his grip more securely and bringing his nose to the boy's curls, which were a little disheveled but still looked adorable. —You're gonna stop shaking, you just needed to be in my arms. —He said, still expressionless. It was impossible to decipher what this being felt... if he felt anything, of course.

—He's still alive, my father. —The boy said, as if he hadn't heard. He moved away from his chest to lift his face and look at his lips, since he couldn't look at his eyes or the annoying whistle would start drilling into his brain more than it already did. He felt a tingling in his stomach as the Devil's hands grabbed his cheeks and his thumbs calmly wiped away his tears. The boy sobbed. —He's gonna kill me, Louis.

—He's not gonna kill you. —He immediately said. —He's stupid, but not that stupid. —He smirked, as if nothing had happened. —He won't even want to touch you.

—Ben, Brad y Bobby... —Harry shook his head slowly. His cousins, they planned everything. He wanted to teach them a lesson, one that would really leave things clear.

Louis silenced him again and held him to his chest, still smiling sideways.

—I don't want my favorite boy wasting his memories thinking about the Castrati. He's going to calm down, breathe and relax. Okay? —Harry nodded, obediently. And the Devil loved it. —Now I want you eating.

—B-but... —He sipped his nose before forming an unconscious pout with his thick lower lip, sad. —Aren't you coming with me?

The Devil laughed at the innocence and purity that the child carried on him. No one would want to be near him, they were even afraid to name him, and now he was with a little religious curious boy. Unable to avoid it, Louis brought his face closer to the child and left a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. He froze in his place and adopted a furious blush on his cheeks.

—I wish, but duty calls. Go.

Harry nodded slowly, wiped his tears, and released himself from the Devil's body, walking out the door. He definitely felt more relaxed.

But he didn't feel right.

The man's eyes opened slowly. He swallowed, feeling his throat dry. He needed water, urgently.

He sighed as he stirred, uncomfortable. He needed to see his family and know that everyone was fine, that they were waiting for him outside in the waiting room.

His mind began to remember amid the confused fog how he tried to punish his son, and suddenly his chest began to hurt excessively. Air escaped from his lungs, his eyesight turned black and the blow on the ground knocked him unconscious.

—You want some water? —He cried out in fright as he heard a voice whisper in his left ear. He brought a hand to his chest and tried to calm his heart. He definitely didn't want to have another heart attack.

Again he turned his head and noticed in the clouds of his sight something dressed in all black at the end of his bed. His throat dried up even more, he blinked more times to find out if what he saw was real.

Finally he saw a man, he was a little younger than him and had eyes as blue as the sky itself on a beautiful summer's day. He smiled calmly and wore a black shirt buttoned up to his neck and pants of the same color.

—W-who are you? —He said, even though he had almost no voice.

The man immediately approached Des's side and took from a tray on a table on the side of the stretcher a small plastic cup, which was filled with water. He put it close to the patient's mouth and allowed him to drink it all.

Even though this one didn't deserve a drop.

When he finished, he calmly put the glass back on the tray and returned to the end of the bed, looking at him.

—Who are you? —Des asked again, lost. —Where is my family?

—Des Styles, —The man brought his hand full of gold rings to his chest.. —…I am Jesus.

If Des wasn't a little sedated, he would definitely have had another heart attack. He stared at the man in front of his stretcher, which continued to smile with the same calm as before. He definitely didn't expect Jesus Christ to look that way.

But... Who was he to judge his God?

—H…how do I know you're not lying?

—Des, you believed in me when I saved your sister from terminal cancer. —Immediately the man began to cry, not being able to believe it. No one could have known that he began to believe in God at that moment. His sister's life was at risk, and God was his only chance. —Do you believe me now?

—Oh, my God. My lord. Praise be... —He interrupted himself as soon as the man in black raised one of his hands and slowly shook his head, telling him to stop.

—My dear Des. You see, I'm not here to chat. I mean... —He raised both eyebrows. —...I'm Jesus Christ, not your therapist. —He swallowed hard, feeling pain within himself. This was his Lord's son? —I'm here because you tried to do something very, very bad to one of my cherubs.

—Ch-cher-

—Your son, to be exact. —He walked around the bed until he reached Des's side again, staring at him. —You almost burned his porcelain skin. Do you have any idea how much I plan to caress that skin? Oh My. I look forward to it.

—What? —He looked around, but he was afraid to call a nurse. He was afraid to try to defend himself. This couldn't be Jesus Christ, no.

—It's a shame. Remember how you felt when you were a poor kid and hid in the closet so your disgusting father wouldn't find you? Fear, despair of... being like him, right? —Despite the terrible things he said, everything was calm, quiet. Soft. —You said, "I'm not gonna be like my father," and, fuck, you're more than your father. You are worse than your father.

—Hail Mary. You are full of grace. May the Lord be with you... —At this point the man had already realized who he was dealing with. He had felt it, but he hoped it would be nothing bad.

Nothing worse than what happened to him.

The man in black laughs before he shakes his head. —Don't be a jerk. I thought we were getting along! —he exclaimed in a sad, sarcastic tone of voice. —It's a shame. I thought you would obey me.

—Obey you? I only obey my God. My only God, return to the darkness where you came from. I command you in the name of the Lord...

The Devil raised both eyebrows. —God tells you to be abusive? Well, I thought he was kind, but I see he's worse than me. —He joked, laughing lowly, hoarsely. He suddenly became serious, and the marine color in his eyes changed to a burgundy, dark one. His pupils dilated and he leaned over the believer's face. —Let's be clear, shall we?

—In the name of Jesus, I return you to-

—In the name of your fucking dead mother, shut your mouth. —Her voice changed to a deep, distorted voice, and Des began to cry because of it. The Devil cleared his throat, pretending to be afflicted. —Sorry for that. —His voice returned to normal. —I lost control, I guess.

Everything was silent for a few seconds, Louis smiled sideways again.

—Please don't kill me. —Des begged, hiccupping and trying to get as far back as he could, frightened by what was in front of his eyes.

—You're gonna leave your son alone. —The Devil said, serious again and with his eyes wide open, fixed on those of the father of his favorite boy —You're not gonna look at him, you're not gonna talk to him, much less touch him. —Des nodded, obediently. —If your soul is still in your body it's because of him, now thank him.

—I-I’m, I’m...

—Thank him!

—Thank you, t-t-thanks. Thank you —He sobbed, trembling and bringing one hand to his chest. —Thank you, thank you.

The beeps began to make themselves audible in the room, indicating that his pulse was too fast. The Devil looked at the machine for a few seconds before he looked at the man on the stretcher.

—I'm very busy, but I'm still real. I will be watching you during your stay on earth, Desmond Styles. —Again he walked to the end of the bed, without taking his eyes off him. —And remember, next time your God won't save you.

Two nurses entered the room, reaching to the side of the machine trying to calm him down. Another nurse arrived with a tray of healthy food, everyone blocked the patient's eyesight, and when the patient got a chance to look at the edge of the stretcher again, there was nothing there.

Gemma and Harry walked through the front door of the house, exhausted. Their mother was going to stay in the hospital waiting, so they had to leave her the car, returning by bus and on foot at a not-so-nice time of the night. The house was silent, things were exactly as they had been left. There was a big storm coming and they both just wanted to sleep.

—Go rest, Harry. Call me if you need anything, I'll sleep on the couch so I can hear you. —Harry nodded, receiving a kiss on his forehead from his sister. —I love you.

—And I you. —Finally he turned to the basement door, walked down the steps and opened the door, entering his room.

Once there he sighed wearily and made his way to the bedside table, almost turning on the light but deciding to leave everything in the dark because he was going to go to bed soon. He wanted to sleep, to stop thinking for a second, to stop crying because, although he wasn't sobbing, tears were streaming down his cheeks.

He felt cold air behind him, and then warmth. Arms wrapped around his waist and a warm breath grazed his left ear. The tears stopped immediately, the protection he needed came back.

—Louis, I think I'm turning bad.

The Devil's nose grazed his curls and sniffed lightly and disguisedly. —Impossible. I still smell purity in you. —He said.

Harry couldn't understand how there could even be a drop of purity in his body after he had invoked the vilest being in existence.

—Even after invoking the Devil? —He dared to say out loud, closing his eyes as soon as he felt the Devil's hands caress his thin torso.

—That wasn't an act of malice. It was an act of desperation in the face of the others' malice. —Louis replied, turning the child in his arms and hugging his body, bowing his face to rub his nose with that of the other, who stood on tiptoes, loving the slight caresses and the closeness. —A lot of people wouldn't understand.

—No one would understand. —Harry confirmed.

—I understand. —Louis replied, continuing the nose-to-nose rubbing. —Your soul is mine, I can feel all you feel in ways much worse.

Harry frowned immediately as concern erupted from his chest.

—Doesn't it hurt? —The Devil smiles sideways, slowly denying the innocent question of his favorite boy as he stroked his lower back.

—Remember all those stories where I'm selfish, where I like mean feelings and I'm a really, really big liar? —Harry nods slowly, waiting for a negative answer. —They're not lies.

The curly boy swallowed to try to soothe the knot in his throat. Of course the Devil was vile and a liar, and probably all the supposed feelings and displays of affection he had for Harry were false, because he was a liar and probably had no feelings. He shouldn't be this close, he shouldn't be wanting the archangel to kiss him, and he shouldn't be feeling the butterflies in his stomach either. This was wrong.

_ He had to be smart. _

—So it's true that you have horns and tail, too? —he asked, trying to forget the whole lying business, though his teary eyes revealed he had thought badly, but he kept them closed.

The Devil frowned. —Who said that? I'll kill him. —Although he was joking, he couldn't help but sound outraged, which made the blushing child laugh softly. The Devil immediately shifted his face a little and began to leave soft kisses on Harry's cheek. —...It's strange.

At this point Harry was unable to move, his body was relaxed against the Devil's warm torso and he was in awe of the soft kisses on his cheek. Finally he managed to say: —What is it?

—I didn't know it had two sides.

Louis' comment caused him to open his eyes with a slight frown, hoping it wouldn't mean anything bad, even knowing that the man who was holding him and kissing his cheek was bad.

—...How?

—Yes. A part of me loves to see you lose your life little by little. —Harry's muscles tightened, and fear made itself present in his chest. However, he didn't want to get out of the protection he felt when he was surrounded by the Devil's arms. —But another part of me makes it possible, to even be funny, to keep you smiling. It never happened to me before.

Even though he sounded really sincere, Harry tried not to be convinced. The Devil was a liar, he had to be smart, smarter than he was. He moved a bit away from the dark figure with a low gaze, and turned to take his sky-blue pajamas with airplanes. He took off his shoes and was about to start undressing, but Louis' blue eyes with a red quarter were glued to him, to his body.

—Could you...? —He asked blushing, hoping he would understand what he was supposed to do..

The archangel snorted, it seemed almost a joke to hear him snort. He turned and rolled his eyes, unable to believe that he was doing this ridiculous thing of turning to please a simple child, a simple soul like any other.

_ Although... maybe it wasn't so simple. _

—Done. —Harry says, dressed in his pajamas. When Louis turns around the boy is in his bed, wrapped up and leaving space for him..

The Devil approaches and doesn't hesitate to lie down next to him, again surrounding his body with his arms. He begins to caress the child's curls, waiting for him to fall asleep, but he knows he won't because he's there, and he should probably leave again so that Harry can rest.

—What does that word you call my cousins mean? —The curly one asks unexpectedly. He had always been curious about that word, and now that he felt that he could trust the Devil more -  _ which sounded crazy _ \- he wouldn't miss the opportunity.

—The Castrati? —Harry nodded and the Devil licked his lips before he began to explain. —Many years ago the church bought children who had a good voice and took them to some kind of reformatory. They cut off their penises because they thought that would preserve their high-pitched voices. —A grimace of pain made itself present on his face. How could people be so cruel to mere children? It was unfair and even more terrible that they were believers. —Do you want to know the worst part? The one nobody knows? —His voice sounds like he's about to tell something entertaining, even funny.

—...I don’t know

—They ate them. —Harry's brow frowned, confused..

—What? Who? —He asked.

—Their penises, they ate them..

Bile went up the curly boy throat, but he swallowed quickly. Anguish settled in his chest for all those children and because he couldn't stop thinking about why Louis called his cousins that. Was it because they sang in the church choir or because he planned to do something to them? He tried to continue with the questions so he wouldn't cry.

—Oh… oh, okay. That's... sick.. —His voice shook and Louis huddled him more against himself. —I want to ask you something, but I'm afraid to offend you.

—Go on. —He encouraged him.

—You were... an angel? You were an angel of God?

—...Mh. —He affirmed.

Oh, wow.

—Is this your real body? I mean... Have you always had this form? —He was afraid to believe that the beautiful man holding him was a body that the Devil had taken. He really hoped not.

—I can be anything I want, but this is my real body. —He was immediately relieved of the answer.

But it was too late already. The fear that was in his chest when Louis confessed to him that he loved to see him die little by little was consuming him, adding to the anguish he felt for the children who were castrated and used as a choir of angels, ruled by demons pretending to be believers. He feared the same fate for his family, even if they were evil he wasn't so evil.

And what he feared most...

_ He was falling in love with Louis. Irremediably.  _ **_And the Devil was a liar._ **

Sobs escaped his lips, the tears didn't stop for anything in the world, falling down his pale cheeks. It was a relief to cry, but the discomfort wouldn't go away and he knew it was due to the Devil. However, he didn't want him anywhere else.

—Louis. —He sobbed loudly, snuggling on the Devil's chest. —I’m scared.

—What are you scared of? —The Devil's voice was neutral. It seemed that he wasn't affected in the least by the child's inconsolable crying.

If only he could remember a token of affection that showed he cared... but there was nothing to remember, because he had never had feelings.

—...Of you, but not in the way everyone's scared of you. —The child sighed, finishing with the crying and closing his eyes, focusing on sleeping.

He did and the Devil left as soon as he did, just so he wouldn't have nightmares or anything that could harm his mind.

Besides, he had things to do.

—Harry. Harry, hey. Wake up. —His eyelids rise as soon as his sister shakes his shoulder. He looks at her grimly at first until he finally notices that she is quite pale.

—Gemms? —He sits abruptly, feeling a little dizzy. He brings his little fist to his left eye, trying to keep himself awake. —What’s wrong?

—We have to go to the hospital now, get up. —She said, and left the room quickly without giving any explanation.

Panic immediately broke out over his body.  _ Had something happened to his father? It was his fault! _ He started crying softly as he got up and got dressed. He put on his shorts, his shoes, his white buttoned shirt and his black suspenders. He wiped the tears from his face and looked around, noticing that he could see nothing out of the corner of his eye.

—Louis? —He called.

_ Nothing happened. _

He hurried out of his room, closing the door behind him and climbing the steps to open the next door. In the kitchen, his sister gave him a glass of orange juice and two toasts with peach jam on top. It was strange not to hear  _ Dominique _ playing around the house loudly.

—Gemms? Did something happen to Dad? —He couldn't help sobbing.

His sister immediately hugs him. —No, no. Don't worry, nothing happened to Dad. —She says, kissing her brother's forehead before giving him a faint smile. —I'll explain on the way, okay? Eat breakfast quickly, please.

And that's what he did.

Half an hour later both siblings were in the car, their belts fastened because of Gemma's speed. Harry tried not to cry, to believe in his sister's words, but he knew something bad had happened.

—Look, Harry. I don't know how to say this. —His sister slowly shakes her head while turning around a corner. The child's heart starts to beat faster as he looks ahead. —Something happened to our cousin, Brad. —Quickly the curly boy looked at her, pale as a sheet, starting to shake.  _ No, no. _ —I don't know how to say it delicately, God. Uhm... something happened to his private parts, and he had to be... amputated.

The dizziness the curly boy feels is awful, but it is disguised by the car's rapid movement and the fact that he has the seatbelt on, which holds him against the back of the seat. He feels nauseous, he feels like dying on the spot.

_ It's his fault. Only his fault. _

He doesn't even realize it when they get to the hospital. His sister calls him but her voice is far away, he feels how she removes his seatbelt and, after a few seconds, she gets him out of the car. The cold air against his face wakes him up a little, but the guilt is so big that he feels he is going to have a heart attack. His father's karma, perhaps?

Quickly both siblings head into the hospital, walking down the aisles to the waiting room. All the family members were there, and when Harry arrives with his sister his two cousins look at him in terror. His aunt and uncle are talking to a doctor who had just come out of a room.

—Stay here. —Gemma tells her brother, leaving him farther away from the rest of the family, addressing their mother, who had started to cry.

The hospital light goes off and on for a few seconds, yet no one seems to notice. The cold invades the curly boy as if he were at the North Pole and when he sees something big, tall and covered by a dark cloak next to him, he passes as if nothing was happening. Breath escapes from the child's chest as he sees the figure he previously saw on the road, followed by a doctor, enter the room where - _ Harry supposed _ \- Brad was.

His uncle starts crying while covering his face at the doctor's news, and his aunt Jacky drops to the floor in a heartbreaking scream. His cousins start crying in the seat noisily and his sister and mother try to calm her aunt Jacky, who keeps screaming her son's name. They are the center of attention, and by the face of the doctor as he turns and continues his way down the aisle, Harry knows it's not just an amputation.

Something went wrong, and Brad's now dead.

The Devil appears beside the child, Harry can see him out of the corner of his eye. And feel him.

Although, he has come to a point, he no longer knows if he can feel anything more than guilty again.

—Who's that? —He asks, referring to the figure that now comes out of his cousin's room and continues down the hallway to the end, turning in a corner, looking for another room to enter.

—Death.

—Where is it taking him? —He retreats a little. His mouth moves by itself, asking questions. He still doesn't know how he's still standing.

The Devil's deep inhalation is so audible and strong that even the paintings on the wall shake a little. At that moment Harry knew that Louis was absorbing the dark souls.

_ Like his cousin's. _

—It doesn't matter where, what matters is that he won't be a nuisance anymore. —He lies.

Because the Devil is a liar.  _ He deceives, pretends, poisons, kills. _

_ And he never forgets about your soul. _

—Louis... —He manages to say in an exhalation but, inevitably, he falls to the ground. No one holds him, no one answers his call for help.

And everything turns black.


	9. VII. "Sharp Tongue"

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since what happened after Harry woke up from fainting when he learned that he was practically the one who caused his cousin's death.

For starters he had been under observation for one day due to his lack of food and bad appearance. He slept thanks to the tranquilizer in the serum and ate well before returning home. Then came the news of Brad's funeral, and the curly boy fainted as soon as he heard it.

_ Had it become some kind of trauma? _ He didn't know exactly, but he assumed it was because of the images that haunted his mind when someone named his deceased relative, the way he died. He remembered the word  **Castrato** and burst into anxiety attacks. So bad that he believed he would die.

Finally it was when he remembered that, seconds before he had fainted in the hospital, the Devil hadn't held him. He hadn't felt the protection of his arms, he hadn't felt anything and internally he was grateful, because at that moment it was the first time that he was afraid of him the way everyone else was.

Fear that he would do something to him, even though he knew he was taking his soul.

Harry's father had returned home, after a couple of days he was told about his nephew's death and locked himself in his room for more than three days. He was always in the house, but when Harry arrived he would go somewhere else, even if it was another room, he would just leave. He didn't even look at him, he prayed constantly - _ even more than before _ \- and the boy ached because he was waiting for an apology... an apology for wanting to burn his skin, for hitting his mother, etc.

But what hurt Harry the most about this whole situation wasn't fainting or constantly living with anxiety or bearing the guilt of a person's death and harming his own father, not even knowing he was surely going to hell for free.

The real pain was that after waking up that day in the hospital...  _ Louis was gone. _

_ Completely.  _ He no longer felt the beeping in his left ear, he didn't feel the constant uneasiness, nor did his body continue to deteriorate. He even got better. He no longer looked like a corpse.

And even though at first he had been scared to see Louis again, it definitely didn't compare to the pain of having him away, of not feeling his embrace at night. It was all utterly horrible, and the knot in his throat didn't diminish even when he cried noisily in his mother's arms, who didn't understand her son's sadness when she thought everything was okay. She decided to blame herself, because she would never let her little one take the blame for anything.

Finally after two weeks Harry went back to school. His parents had signed the authorization for the cohabitation trip.  _ "The journey in which God guides your way!" _ They said, but God didn't guide anyone who had the name " _ Harry Styles _ " and he knew it.

Fionn Whitehead was still annoyed that he wasn't going, Harry was afraid to go because he knew the senior would go, and that meant that Dylan Moisset and Parker Jenkins were going. " _ The bullies _ ," so to say. They made the lives of the two teenagers impossible, all because they weren't stereotypical and because they were innocent. Fionn was a rebel without a cause, even though he was as small as Harry, but in high school he clearly didn't look that way. Harry, on the other hand, was the same everywhere.

Dylan Moisset was the one who always followed Parker. The latter had had a terrible life, falling into an orphanage and being adopted by a wealthy family because he was extremely beautiful. No one knew he was adopted except for Harry's parents, who got along well with Parker's parents. The curly boy had heard when Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins confessed it to the Styles, but he never said anything.

He knew he was going to have a horrible trip. For heaven's sake, he knew it. But he didn't care about anything anymore, he didn't make much sense of things anymore. He wanted Louis, the only thing he wanted, the only thing he wanted and couldn't have. He felt that all the affection that this one once gave him had been fake, and that broke his heart.

The bus seemed to be waiting for the students to get in. The choir teacher was standing next to the door, looking at his watch. He was probably waiting for the exact minute to get in and leave. Harry seriously thought about running away, spending the day walking around the city, maybe buying ice cream and then going back to school when it was time, but his mother would kill him, so he quickly walked to the bus, giving up his permit and getting on.

Everyone was seated in their respective seats except the two ass... bullies. The two bullies. They were bothering a boy in the front, who was next to another, both covering their heads so as not to get hit by them. Harry begged to hurry down the hallway, and so he did. He had no idea how they didn't notice him. He was going to sit in the back, on the side of the window and next to Liam Payne, who was a senior and was reading the Bible attentively. He didn't understand how anyone chose that seat, the best part of the trip was enjoying the scenery.

Once the curly boy sat down, he sighed and settled against the back of the seat, his skin bristling from the cold. Winter was approaching. Liam Payne stopped reading to look at his companion.

—Hey, Harry. —He said.

As a matter of fact, Liam was a good guy. A nice, cute guy. He didn't mess with anybody, and nobody messed with him because of his size. Big, muscular and with a sour face... but only for some people. Harry had met him when he had to do a play where Liam was Moses and Harry... Well, let's ignore that he had been a sheep and let's just focus on presuming he had been in a play. His first play. Since then they waved at each other in the corridors and rarely had lunch together, but nothing more than that. It wasn't even a friendship like that of Fionn and Harry.

—Liam. —Harry greeted back, noticing how cold he had sounded. He glanced at the Bible and frowned a little as he noticed that inside it was nothing like the real thing. —What are you reading? —He pretended not to know.

—What do you think? —Liam laughed nervously as he turned his gaze back to his reading.

Harry stared at him for a few seconds with noticeable humor. —I definitely haven't seen the word " **vampire** " in the bible before. —He commented, looking straight ahead, pretending to downplay it.

Liam, completely startled, closed " _ the Bible _ " and placed it on his lap, pointing his enormous index finger at the curly boy, which was smiling again, causing only one dimple to be visible on his cheek.

—If you don't say anything, I'll pay you back however you want. —He tried to negotiate.

Harry decided that he would continue that negotiation, thinking for a few seconds before settling into his seat.

—I won't say anything on one condition. —They look at each other and Harry, without taking his eyes off the boy in front of him, nodded in the direction of Dylan and Parker, who were joking with each other about something.—See those guys?

As Liam looked ahead to look for the two fools, the bus started and everyone exclaimed with excitement before it quietly accelerated down the street. The professor interrupted Liam and Harry's talk to warn everyone to stay on their seats.

—The bullies. —Liam answered after a few minutes.

—They bother me, a lot. You are big, Liam. You're muscular. Can you protect me? —He's honestly flushed, and not because he had called him  **_muscular_ ** , but because he'd never been so straightforward about something.

The brunette in front of him watched him for a few seconds from top to bottom, nodding slowly, as if confirming his doubts.

—You changed. —He confirms. Harry's eyebrows rise, surprised but not entirely. —You look all confident and negotiating. I mean, I've always known that you're very intelligent and observant, but you seem very shy and today you're... quite bold.

Oh, shit.  **_Someone's being unbelievably straightforward!_ **

Harry's discomfort increased, causing him to settle back into his seat and look straight ahead, insecure as he brought his little hands to his lap.

—I didn’t want to… I mean, I-I’m sorry. —He swallowed saliva forcefully to try to soothe the lump in his throat, but he felt it wasn't working. Louis was gone, and he had behaved like a dumb, bold boy to seek protection from someone. He was so embarrassed. —I'm sorry, I don't have the right to... you know. I won't say anything about the book, don't worry. —He took his gaze to the window, watching the road they were on. —I guess we all do bad things sometimes.

—You think reading this is bad? —He smiled sideways at his seatmate's question.

—No, that's why I'm not gonna rat you out. You aren't doing anything wrong. — **_You'll be going to heaven and I won't, but that's because of something and probably because I deserve it._ ** —You're a good person, Liam.

Liam seems to be thinking of something as he reopens the supposed bible, resuming his reading. Harry seems to be waiting to see something abnormal among the trees on the sides of the road, something that would tell him that Louis wasn't gone, that he cared that he was okay on planet earth.

He never knew when he would take his soul, nor what he asked, which,  _ according to the devil _ , was the most pure thing. He wanted to know, and the intrigue was eating him faster than the anxiety.

He sighed before leaning his head against the glass and closing his eyes, ignoring the beautiful scenery and the crow flying high above the bus.

The bus finally stopped as it entered a forest along a dirt road, parking not far from the road. They didn't want to get lost. Liam woke Harry, who was snoring a little and had his thumb slipping out of his mouth. When he woke up he looked around him and sighed deeply, blushing at having been seen sleeping like a baby... literally.

He stood as he rubbed his eyes and walked behind a couple of students, following Liam down the small corridor between the bus seats. The bullies got behind him, but Harry was sleepy enough not to notice. It was when he reached the first step of the bus that he was pushed hard, causing his face to hit the ground abruptly. A groan of pain came out of his lips at the severe pain on his nose, hearing laughter from his classmates.

Hands lifted him by the arm, and when he got back up, completely dizzy, he noticed that Liam was the only one who helped him. He thanked him with a nod as he tried to remove the dirt from his eyelashes without hurting his eyes. The professor hadn't seen that scene, and he didn't ask what everyone was laughing at either. He simply approached and pulled out a piece of paper as he put on his glasses to start reading.

— _ "Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. _ " _ (1 John 4:7) _ " —Once he finishes reading, he looks at all his students with a smile, as if everything were simple. —We brought you here because we want everyone to love each other, to feel that they can count on each other. The comfort, the respect, mainly the love attracts the Lord. We are going to feel happiness this evening. —Finally he sighed before looking around. —Alright, then. Let's look for a place nearby where we can build a small bonfire and accommodate some logs to sit to cohabit. Follow me.

Everybody starts walking. Harry shakes his clothes among all the students, hearing Dylan and Parker behind him. Liam walks by his side. His supposed bible is under his arm and his eyes are straight ahead. The laughter of the fools in the back doesn't stop, and they're starting to speak louder than usual, although almost everyone is doing it.

—Yeah, he died in the hospital. —Dylan starts. Harry feels a tingling of vertigo in his tummy. —He bled out. I guess... he didn't have enough balls to stay alive. —Both teenagers explode in laughter.

They were clearly talking about Brad.

The floor seems to be moving, and Harry's so dizzy he just wants to throw up. He feels one of Liam's hands holding his arm as he begins to lean to one side, about to fall. He looks as if he has climbed a merry-go-round without brakes, and his heart seems to be going to the rhythm of the merry-go-round, fast, careless.

He took a couple of deep breaths without receiving any questions from Liam, and soon calmed down a bit.

**_Louis, I need you_ **

—I'm sorry about your cousin. —Harry nods slowly and wipes his tears as soon as he realizes they're falling down his cheeks. —I'm gonna watch your back.

Harry immediately lifts his face towards Liam, who looks at him out of the corner of his eye as he watches as the choir teacher has found a perfect place to stop.

—Here! It's perfect here. Help me with this, please.

—S-seriously? —Harry asks, and when the other teen nods he immediately begins to feel guilt settling into his chest. —Liam, don't feel forced.

—I'm not being forced, I just don't think you should deal with this crap today.

Harry doesn't hesitate to thank him, happy to have someone in the miserable world he was in.

—Liam Payne! —The teacher calls him, and he immediately goes, not before giving his bible to Harry to hold it. He does it immediately, clutching it to his chest. —We need your muscles, Mr. Payne.

—Gladly.

—Why did you want to come to the conviviality? —Parker's voice becomes audible next to Harry. He pretends to walk quietly around the little curly boy, who shrugs his shoulders in place. —You're the weirdo here.

Dylan pretends to pass calmly by Harry's side and with a shake of his arm he pulls the book from the hands of the green-eyed boy, who sighs before bending over to lift it up. Parker's laughter reaches his ears before he is pushed into the mud. Now he has completely stained his clothes. Why did he have to wear a white shirt that day?  _ Jesus Christ. _

Liam reappears immediately in the scene, but in spite of arriving a little late, he gets Harry on his feet and insists on staring at Dylan Moisset, who smiles amicably at the brunette.

—You guys have a problem? —He grudgingly asks as he begins to approach Dylan. —Are you bored?

—N-no.

The teacher looks in that direction because he is outraged by the dirt on the clothes of his smallest student, Harry Styles. Liam, noticing that, kindly strikes the shoulder of the annoying teenager in front of him and fakes a kind smile.

—You want me to take the boredom outta you by smashing your face, asshole? —Liam smiles even more after saying that, and Dylan quickly shakes his head before moving further away, passing Harry's side. Liam turns around as soon as he hears Parker chuckle. —Is something funny?

—You don't scare me, Payne. You know if you do something you could get hurt.

—Are you testing me?

—Boys? What's going on here? —The choir teacher intervened because of a student explaining to him the problematic situation regarding the four boys.

Liam sighs and then turns and takes Harry's arm, guiding him. They hear Parker and Dylan laugh but ignore them completely, trying to have a nice day together, even if the little curly-haired guy knew exactly that wasn't the case.

— Worthy is the Lamb ! —Applause. — Worthy is the Lamb ! —More unison applause. — You are Holy, Holy Holy! Holy, Holy are you Lord God Almighty!

Harry wasn't going to lie. He was going to be very sincere but careful. The songs just depressed him even more. Even knowing that he wouldn't throw up when naming the father of the heavens, he also knew that he had no right. He sighed and lowered his gaze to his hands, only clapping when everyone did, hearing his companions sing the song terribly, except Liam, who sang brilliantly.

He sighed.  **_Louis? Can you hear me? I'm sorry if I did something that bothered you, I promise I won't do it again but... please come back._ **

Small branches coming from his right had been itching on his face for some time now, he doesn't think he can stand it anymore. Liam couldn't do anything in that situation, and Harry understood. —Could you please stop throwing things at me?

Parker laughs with Dylan as everyone stops singing and the teacher scolds the three teenagers with his gaze, Harry for interrupting, and the other two for starting.

Harry doesn't even let him talk. —I'm going to... find a bathroom. —He says before he stands up, shaking his clothes even though they are already really dirty.

—Okay. —The teacher approves, smiling in the direction of his student. He had always liked Harry Styles because he never gave problems. —Don't go too far, please. —The curly boy nods at that, thanking for the concern as he walks out of the circle, slowly into the forest.

—I need to go to the bathroom too, professor.

—And I. —Harry sighs shakily. He knows that both boys did it on purpose, he doesn't doubt it.

—Go, and don't get lost.

—Professor, so do I. —Liam quickly says standing up. Harry appreciates it, but he does it too soon.

—Liam, you better go with a new group when they get back. —The professor says, and Liam sits down again, watching with a scowl as Harry walks faster and the other two idiots try to catch him. He immediately turns around and attempts to sing without focusing on what would happen to his classmate

The curly boy hurried, almost jogging as he heard Parker and Dylan doing exactly the same thing laughing. It's when Harry stops walking when he realises that he won't get rid of the teenagers, that they decide to push him immediately to the ground. Parker holds him by the nape of his neck, holding his cheek to the ground.

—Who the fuck do you think you are now? Payne's protégé? Dumbass. —A pout settles slowly on Harry's lower lip. Since Louis' arrival he had become accustomed to not dealing with this kind of crap, and now he just blamed himself, wondering what he did wrong and feeling that everything that could happen to him he deserved it.

—Make him eat dirt. —Dylan says completely thrilled.

Parker fists up the curls on the back of Harry's head and lifts them up a bit, only to sink Harry's face into the ground. The curly boy's body twists, trying to get out of the grip because he feels like he's drowning. Unexpectedly he is released and he stays on the ground, coughing and inhaling deeply with his face full of dirt.

—Freak. —Parker says before he gets up and starts walking with Dylan back to the small camp with the other students.

And that was it.

A deep, trembling sigh comes out of Harry's little nose, who turns on the ground, sitting and staring at both boys walking.

—Adopted crap. —He lets it out while he swallows the bitter taste in his mouth. It's the first time he's ever felt anger of his own, and insults someone. And it feels fucking incredible.

He internally thanks his sharp tongue.

Both teenagers stop walking, Dylan even walks away from Parker while he looks at Harry with surprise and even some terror. It’s then and because of Parker's crazy look that the curly boy slowly stands up as tears stream down his cheeks. He doesn’t regret it, but he was scared. He knew he had gone too far and could be beaten to death. He had to go quickly to Liam, but both boys were blocking that path.

An extremely false, choppy laugh comes out of Parker's mouth. —Jesus Christ, you're so dead right now. —He says.

Harry takes that as a sign to turn around and start running, sensing both teenagers doing the same. Dylan shouts out his friend's name, because bullying is very different from walking away from others and breaking the child's head against a rock. He knows that his friend is going to overreact, and he knows that he is going to have to carry a burden on his conscience for the rest of his life.

The child is unable to stop breathing fast between barely audible sobs as he runs with as much strength as he has left, trying not to trip over any branch because, oh God, he would be so fucking dead if that happened.

He knows that he is getting too far away when the songs of his classmates are no longer heard and because he doesn't recognize that area of the forest. It's when he looks ahead that he wishes he had shut his mouth and kept his anger. A lake that separates the forest from another forest is a few meters away, he clearly can't throw himself just like that because he doesn't know how to swim. He concluded everything knowing that he was going to die, and he preferred to drown before doing it in the hands of Parker, with Dylan as an accomplice.

He sobbed louder. How could Louis take his soul away by killing him like this? He believed that the Devil decided the death of his victims, and if the Archangel felt anything for him... this wouldn't be happening.

_ How could he have been so stupid to believe that Louis would feel something for him? How could he have believed that someone would ever feel love for him? _

—Louis. —He whispered in panic before taking a deep breath, running and jumping as soon as he reached the edge of the lake, sinking slowly.

He closed his eyes tightly as he felt his ears covered by the sound of the water, leaving his body motionless but feeling as it descended more and more. Bubbles came out of his nose as he relaxed his body, enjoying the calm the water gave him and waiting patiently for death. If he was going to die, he was going to die well.

More bubbles came out of his nose abruptly as arms wrapped around his waist, attaching him to a hard torso.

It was then that the uneasiness made itself present.

He took a deep breath through his mouth as soon as his face was out of the water, coughing a little. No water had entered his lungs, but having run quite a bit and then holding his breath had made him choke a bit. His left ear beeped as before, his body was frozen and he thought it was due to the water, but as soon as his huge green eyes opened and he saw the Devil so close, he understood.

He was as handsome as ever, only his hair was wet, combed backwards and his eyes were burgundy with the pupils terribly dilated. His skin was warm and, damn, Harry had missed him. So much that he could barely breathe.

He immediately wrapped his arms around the archangel's neck and embraced him, trembling at the knowledge that the worst was coming.

—Parker, sto- —Both boys stopped as soon as they stood in front of the lake, watching the curly boy embracing a strange, scary guy. Dylan immediately looked around before he looked at the man in the water again. —Who the hell are you?

Everything happened so fast.

A crow, the same one who had been watching Harry the whole trip, appeared at the scene. He flew in front of Dylan's face and started attacking him as he screamed, begging for help. Blood fell down his cheeks until he was finally separated from his own eyes. The crow fled as he chewed on his food and the teenager fell to the ground, slowly bleeding to death.

Parker looked at his lifelong friend, his body motionless on the floor and screamed loudly, horrified as he brought his hands to his cheeks, unable to believe it. The sound of the crow chewing on his friend's dark eyes was all it took for him to start running through the forest, not looking back, running away. Maybe it was the shortness of breath, the panic in his chest, or having run for a long time, but his head was starting to hurt terribly. An abnormal aching.

He finally got to where everyone was gathered. The choir teacher silenced his students when he noticed Parker's face as white as a sheet.

—Parker? What’s going on? —He asks. Everyone looks at the teenager, who slowly sits on a trunk between two more students.

Everyone remains silent for a few seconds as Parker's breathing begins to cease, becoming more burdensome. His face turns red, burgundy, slowly violet and his veins stand out. It is when the teacher advances that his student's head literally explodes into pieces. The blood splashes all the people who were there, some scream, some run away and others can't move. The adolescent's body falls, there is no trace of his head, no trace of anything.

Chaos breaks loose.

Louis picks Harry up, finally being able to get him out of the water. He was breathing deeply and quickly, face up and looking at the blue sky. It was a beautiful day for so much tragedy, for so many problems. Slowly he begins to sit, dizzy and watching from the corner of his eye as the Devil comes out of the water, standing and pulling his dark hair back. His black shirt and pants were soaked, as were the little boy's dirty clothes. It's when the archangel is about to bend over to lift him that the child pulls back, sobbing dry. He feels that he can no longer cry, even if he tried.

—L-Louis... —He sobbed as his chest contracted painfully. —Where were you? I-I needed you. —He starts crying louder as tears come out of his eyes. He seems to be panicking, but finally turns to see the bully's corpse. A bully, like any other clumsy teenager who hasn't yet matured, who had been punished with one of the worst deaths just because he didn't know who he was messing with. —Dead.

The Devil looks at him with his eyes wider than normal, not knowing how to react to his child's words.

—He deserved it. —He whispers.

Harry seems to be starting to freak out. —G-God. —A low growl escapes Louis's lips at the mention as the boy passes his trembling, cold hands through his wet curls, almost pulling them out and hyperventilating even more. —T-This isn't happening, no. I-it can't be. —He shakes his head quickly as everything moves around him.

He is quickly taken from under his arms and wrapped around his waist as soon as the Devil notices that he has no stability on his legs. —Listen to me. —He tells him, noticing how Harry is doing his best not to panic. —I swear I'm going to explain why I left. The truth.

—H-how do I know you're not lying? —Another sob escapes his lips as he tries to regain the normal rhythm of his breathing, repeatedly failing to do so.

Louis just stares at him, even if the child doesn't, keeping his eyes closed.

—...I would never lie to my favorite boy. —He said before caressing his nose against the one of the shorter one, breathing deeply and re-engraving his aroma in his memory, in his senses.

It's when Louis starts talking that Harry thinks he's dreaming. He speaks in a language incomprehensible to simple humans like him, but it's so soft and intriguing that Harry's nerves begin to descend as he cuddles more against the Devil's warm body. The latter caresses -  _ Harry dares to think it's with a lot of affection _ \- the child's back softly and slowly. Little by little the nerves diminish, he only feels cold and heavy. The shock goes away, he's just scared.

—Don't freak out. —Harry swallows with force while the Devil separates and takes the cheeks of the youngest to watch him, despite the fact that he is looking at the archangel's mouth, which is tilted into a - _ somewhat macabre _ \- smile. —I made the head of the other inferior being fly in a thousand pieces. Everyone you came with already knows that something has happened. You have to go back and say that you don't know anything, because you decided to go further than them and fell into the lake.

Shock strikes Harry again, but he doesn't feel like he's going to freak out again. —I-I... —He slowly shakes his head before sobbing, feeling the tears fall down his cheeks. This was a nightmare, and a dream came true at the same time. —...I can’t.

Louis' breathing changes drastically. Harry can almost assure that the Devil is desperate for his favorite boy not to be blamed for the matter, but he didn't want to believe it at all. —Do it, or I'll kill every human here. —He says in a soft but cold tone. He unexpectedly walks away from the curly boy. —Go.

—You'll move the body? —Louis nods and Harry does the same before turning around and starting to walk quickly towards the path back to conviviality.

Finally he arrives and tries to use his shock to fake surprise and worry. The students are lining up on the bus, there are two ambulances, and the logs where everyone was previously sitting are covered in blood. There is a yellow ribbon around these and something that looks like a body in a black bag. Harry is about to start walking towards the line of the bus, but he thinks that would be really suspicious so he walks towards his choir teacher, who has both hands on his waist and is paler than normal, slowly shaking his head.

—Mr. McCoulay? What happened? —he said, pretending to be clearly unaware of the situation.

The teacher slowly raises his gaze, staring at the child before reducing him with his gaze, aware of how wet and dirty he was.

—Where have you been?

The curly boy tries not to babble. —I went to pee at the lake, but I fell in. —He scowls slightly and looks around before looking at the adult again. —What happened? Did someone get hurt?

A sigh comes from the man's lips after observing the boy for a few seconds. Before his eyes -  _ and anyone's _ \- it is very clear that his student would never hurt a fly. Harry no longer feels as pure as Louis swears he is.

McCoulay's hand travels to the back of the curly boy, gently pushing him in the direction of the bus while he slowly shakes his head. —Don't worry about it. Go home, kid.

Once Harry gets on the bus, he notices how his classmates and seniors can't react. Some talk softly, others cry and the others just... look lost in their heads. Almost all of them are covered in red spots, the bus driver finishes smoking a cigarette while he moves his leg frantically, waiting for the teacher to leave. Harry walks to the back without looking at anyone and returns to the same place he arrived, next to Liam, who seems more sane than everyone else.

—Harry? Where were you? What happened to you? —He looks worried as the child closes his eyes, breathing slowly and shakily.

—I fell in the lake. Long history. —He straightened once he opened his eyes, looking at Liam and trying to look surprised at the blood stains on his shirt. —What happened, Liam?

He sighs before turning his gaze to the front. —It's better you don't know. It could hurt your sensitivity.

**_It's because you still don't know everything I've done, Liam. Everything I provoked._ **

Harry nods slowly before turning towards the window. Minutes later the bus accelerates, leaving behind the place of that terrible conviviality and each tear that the curly boy spilled between the silent sobs he let escape, pretending to be sleeping peacefully when in reality he was the most affected of all of them.

It was no surprise that his mother shrieked and hugged him against her chest as soon as she picked him up from school. All the parents were now informed of what had happened and none seemed to have a mild or minor reaction to Harry's mother. Harry's mother kissed his face as if it wasn't filled with moist soil from the water.

—Harry! —She took her son's face, examining and grimacing at the sight of his scraped cheek and a bloody nostril. —What happened? Are you okay, baby? You've got blood!

Harry quickly huddles in his mother's arms, sighing deeply and trying to stop the tachycardia quickly. —I'm fine, mommy. I just fell.

—You're soaked!

—I fell into a lake, I was trying to pee. —He blushed. Partly, it was true. He was specifically going to pee, but not in the lake.  **_Ew._ **

—Oh, honey. —She hugged him tighter before she pulled away a little, looking at him fondly. —I'll sign a paper and we'll go home. I'll make you the best tea in the universe and you can watch whatever you want, huh? Wait here. —She made the boy sit in one of the seats glued to the wall of the small waiting room in the office and entered the office.

After a couple of minutes they walked out of the institute, receiving disapproving glances from the nuns passing by and observing Harry's attire. Outside, they walked to the car and climbed in. This time the boy was in the co-pilot seat.

—How'd you get out? You don't know how to swim.

—I did what I could. —At the sound of his mother's sigh Harry felt even worse and brought his small, pale, delicate hand to his mother's arm. —I'm fine, mommy. Don't worry about me. —He says and then smiles sideways, pretending to have no idea what happened. Her mother does the same while her son buckles his seatbelt and tries to relax on the seat.

He knows that because of lying he would cry, he wouldn't bear it because he never has, but the slight caress on his arm that comes from the back seat calms him down completely, making him feel that he's not alone.

As soon as he arrived home he was greeted by a hug from his sister, expressing how worried she had been. Her father took his cup of coffee and climbed the steps, going to his room. It hurt Harry.

His mother made him a snack. It was always tea and toast, but this time it was chocolate milk and cookies baked specifically for him. He ate only because he wanted to see the smile on his mother's face, but he didn't deserve a small crumb.  _ Not at all. _

Finally he decided it was time to take a shower so he made his way to the basement door, closing it and walking down the steps to open the door to his room. He took his sky-blue airplane pajamas, white short socks and underwear, and headed for the bathroom. 

The hot water was comforting, falling down his shoulders and head. He wept loudly wiping his tears with the artificial rain. The only proof that he had cried when he finished were his slightly swollen eyes, pink on the outside as well as his nose. He dried and dressed, cleaning before heading to his room.

This time he didn't even startle at the dark figure of Louis, standing on the end of his bed. He walked calmly towards it and sat down, covering his legs with blankets and looking down, leaving his hands on his lap.  _ He knew they were going to talk. _

—I can't always be with you.

_ But he didn't know it was gonna hurt. _

—...I understand. —He just whispered, nodding slowly and really trying to understand that he was the Devil. The Devil! He had many more engagements than hugging him.

He was about to lie down to sleep, wanting to end the conversation.

—If I am, you're gonna turn into a corpse. —Harry's brow frowned, wanting to look into his eyes to understand, unable to do so because of the annoying beeping in his left ear. —When I spend too much time with you your body deteriorates, you lose weight, you don't sleep, you puke, you don't eat... You feel sad.

The boy blinked slowly, trying to understand.  _ That was it? Just that?! Did it mean that Louis... was protecting him? _

—...Oh. —He just said, biting his lower lip for a few tiny seconds. —But sometimes... well, at night when I sleep, you always hug me.

—When you fall asleep, I leave. —The Devil confessed, walking slowly to where Harry was. —The times I stayed with you you had insomnia, nightmares and sleep paralysis. —He sat on one side of the bed and brought his hands full of rings to the cheeks of his favorite boy. —And you were afraid. Afraid of me.

—N-no...

—I feel what you feel. —He interrupted. Harry wondered if Louis was able to feel that he was in love, because that would be very embarrassing. He blushed at the thought. —I could feel your fear in the hospital, and it was directed at me. —Harry didn't say anything, it was true.

He had been terrified of having Louis around when he woke up in the hospital. It was like coming out of every dream where the Devil seemed careful, cuddly and beautiful. It was seeing reality. He doesn't have a heart. He doesn't have it.

Louis remained staring at Harry a few seconds before, unexpectedly, getting closer until their lips touched. The curly boy seemed to be out of breath and turning into a tomato.

—Ask me. —He says Harry's little hands tremble and he feels how happiness returns to his body little by little because of the archangel's displays of affection, although he felt like he was going to die of nervousness.

—Mh? —That's all he can say, even his voice trembles in that murmur.

—What did you ask for, ask me.

The child's eyes close at the sweet and intimate caresses of Louis' nose on his nose. He loves that tingling in his stomach so much that he decides to raise his face more, without rejecting the pampering.

—W-what did I ask for?

Louis inhales heavily, causing some paintings in Harry's room to shake a little. He is about to speak but a low growl escapes from his mouth before he moves away from Harry. The latter looks at the Devil in confusion, who stands up and retreats to a corner of the room.

—Someone’s coming. —He warns.

Harry erases his grimace of confusion and love, lying down slowly on the bed and watching his mother enter after a few light taps. She smiles at her son, being reciprocated..

—Baby. —She says and walks toward the bed, sitting where Louis was before. He remains in the corner of the room, watching the scene and only visible to the child. —How are you feeling?

—I’m okay. —He simply responds, laughing quietly at his mother's kisses in the palm of his hand.

She nods slowly before gently squeezing his hand. —Hey, love. —he whispered. Harry wiped his smile a little as he heard the tone in his mother's voice. —I need to ask you something.

—Yeah?

—At camp... Did you notice anything strange about two of your classmates? Uhm... Dylan Moisset and Parker Jenkins? —Harry stands motionless for a few seconds, glancing sideways at the figure of Louis in the darkness of the corner of his room. He shakes his head slowly, looking not convincing at all. —Are you sure?

—Well... They looked nervous. —Again he looks at Louis out of the corner of his eye, who slowly nods in approval. He looks back at his mother and shrugs. —But I didn't pay much attention, I just wanted to pee.

His mother laughed at his son's words, pinching his cheeks and causing him to smile adorably, with dimples visible on his cheeks.

—Okay, little man. Go to sleep. Mommy will stay with you for a few seconds. —Harry nodded and left room for his mother, who lay behind him and wrapped him in her arms. Louis grunted at the scene and Harry couldn't help but laugh aloud. —What's going on?

He laughed again but quieter, staring at Louis, who had both eyebrows raised. —No, nothing... I remembered a really good joke.

—Really? Tell me about it. —Her mother asks, cheerful. Harry freezes, not knowing exactly what to say and seeing the sly smile on Louis' face, who had taken that as revenge.

—U-uhm… I'm tired, tomorrow. —He yawns exaggeratedly and closes his eyes, starting to snore a few seconds later and waiting for his mother to believe him.

Obviously she doesn't believe him, Harry is very exaggerated when he snores, but she just smiles and stays with her son. Little by little, the exaggerated snoring becomes real and Anne leaves a kiss on the child's curls before getting up, tucking him better and silently leaving the room.

Louis looks at the curly boy and notices that he's really asleep. He sighs before deciding to leave so that his favorite boy wouldn't have any nightmares, thinking that what he would have done today he would have to do it tomorrow: The chaos.

The chaos of chaos, and all because finally the Devil would do something that harmed no one but himself, and that was resigning himself to the eyes of the one above. A total piece of shit, to tell you the truth. But he couldn't stand it anymore.

He needed to kiss him.

**_And something more._ **


	10. VIII. "Dancing with the Devil" I/II

His huge green eyes opened slowly as soon as he heard his mother entering the room, closing the door carelessly and all because she carried a tray on her forearms, which had a breakfast placed in a very organized way: Hot chocolate in a huge blue mug and some well-baked cookies in a small, flowery porcelain saucer. On one side there was a note in which she wished him a good day and all the blessings of the world, which wouldn't make a bit of an effect on Harry because, Hey! He was in love with the Devil!

He closed his eyes again because he didn't want his mother to notice that he was awake, feeling as she left the tray beside him on the bedside table.

—Hazzie. —She shook his shoulder, the boy simply covered his head with the blankets. —Breakfast, baby.

—In a minute...

Anne sighed, scolding him a little because she knew he wasn't going to wake up right away and she couldn't stay. She just left, and Harry rubbed his little eyes with his little fists under the blankets. Almost immediately he felt the weight of a body fall beside him, sitting down. He would have been afraid, but he only felt excitement.

—Look who's awake —He couldn't help but smile, closing his eyes tightly for a few seconds and feeling a tickling in his tummy. He loved when people talked to him that way, especially if it was Louis, so he couldn't help but blush.

He removed the blankets as he sat somewhat slowly, pulling his curls aside. He was disheveled, but he didn't care because Louis had seen him that way several times. He yawned before getting up.

—I'll be right back. —He said, and ran barefoot to the bathroom. He had held back from going the day before.

Minutes later he came out, Louis was still in the same place and with his gaze on the child who was lazily getting into bed again. He took the tray and placed it on his lap, which was hidden under the blankets. They kept him warm, it was cold outside.

Before he began drinking his hot chocolate to start off the day well he took a cookie and tended it to Louis without looking at him.

—Do you want some? —Out of the corner of his eye he noticed how this one shook his head and he immediately dipped it in his hot chocolate and then bit it, chewing on the exquisite flavor of both delicacies mixed together.

It's when he decides to start drinking his hot chocolate that Louis decides to talk. —I've been hanging around your house. —He almost spits everything out, quickly moving the cup away from his lips and swallowing the drink with force. Her heart was pounding, her eyes widened. Had Louis done something again? Fear shot through his whole body. —Don't worry, I didn't do anything bad or anything that would make my presence noticeable. —That caused the relief to fall satisfactorily on him, causing him to sigh before continuing to eat breakfast. —Only the crucifixes turned... and I scared your father... That's all..

—Oh, okay... —Harry accepted that. For some reason, he was beginning to like Louis making his presence noticeable. Was it the power and protection he felt when the Devil was around? Were these two emotions beginning to take hold of him?

He wanted to look at him, and knowing that he couldn't look into his eyes he decided to look at his lips, but he immediately lowered his gaze and his cheeks burned infernally as he remembered how his lips had touched those of the entity the night before, in the silence and absolute darkness of his room.

—I found out you have a terrace.

He nodded slowly. The precious terrace he was never allowed to go to. He was forbidden and all because he was clumsy and both parents believed that the boy could fall and die tragically.

—Yeah, but they never let me go. —He confirmed, drinking the last of his cup of chocolate before leaving it on the night table, not before having a cookie. —They say I'm too clumsy and I can fall. —He shrugged slightly. He was always looking forward to going up there, taking his mother's polaroid (which he only used occasionally for nice family gatherings or church parties) and taking pictures of the beautiful sky. That would help a lot to copy the pictures and continue drawing in his little art notebook.

—Today is going to be a long day, I heard your mother is organizing a family dinner to pray for your cousin. —He says, and Harry can almost hear the irony and fun in his voice. He's enjoying it, and he can't help but shudder.

—Is he... is he in hell now? —He fears the answer, even knowing what it will be.

—Yes.

—Dylan and Parker too?

—No. Just the second inferior being.

Harry nods slowly, trying to feel relieved to know that Dylan Moisset wasn't suffering condemnation in hell. However, it must have been hell when his eyes were torn from his face by an evil crow. His chest began to hurt and he brought one of his delicate little hands there, over his pajama shirt. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself, without much success.

Almost immediately he removed the blankets from his legs, left the cookie on the tray of the bedside table and crawled until he was hugging Louis. He immediately huddled him against his chest, but not before taking him by the waist and lifting him up onto his lap. He almost died of embarrassment at that moment because, hell, he was on the lap of the king of darkness and he felt... fucking good.

Louis seems to be speaking against his healthy ear, but all the words he pronounces are completely incomprehensible. However, that unknown language hypnotizes Harry's senses, and he immediately exhales deeply and relaxes all his muscles at once. He doesn't know why he's so calm when he hears the Devil speak that way, but it's as if all his panic was taken away and he was filled with peace.

—What language is that?

—It doesn't have a name.

—What are you saying?

—Words that don't exist in this world.

The eyebrows of the youngest rose, curious about it but not moving a bit.

—They don't have the same meaning here?

—They're the same, but much stronger, descriptive. They don't compare.

He decided not to ask. He didn't want to decipher what the devil was saying to him, he preferred that the Devil kept it a secret, so if it was something bad Harry would never know and would continue to believe that he was saying something like "You're beautiful".

False illusions.

…Or not?

A scream from upstairs caused the two of them to remain silent. “—Harry, wake up! Breakfast! Come and spend time with the family! —”. The little boy sighed as he felt his eyes beginning to fill with tears and his muscles tense.

—I don't want to go to the family reunion, I don't feel well. —The Devil moved away a little from his boy, who closed his eyes when he felt the caresses on his cheek coming from the hand full of gold rings of the entity. It soothed his heart. —Louis? Wh-what did I ask for?

—I'll tell you tonight on the terrace. —He says at the same time that he moves his hand away and stands up, but not before leaving his favourite boy on the bed. Harry opens his eyes almost immediately, watching him walk to the edge of his bed.

—They don't let me go to the terrace.. —He repeated, praying that Louis wouldn't think of making him hide. He was under a lot of surveillance lately, he just couldn't.

—Your mother is planning to tell you that the reunion won't be at home, that you can stay here if it affects you.

Okay, if it was a surprise... not anymore.

—Does that mean I'm going up to the terrace without permission? —He blushed just from asking, glancing around doubtingly, thinking it wasn't a good idea. What if someone found out?

Louis smiled sideways. —You'll be a bad boy today —He said.

Harry blinked, completely astonished at those last words the Devil murmured. The latter's figure vanished in a blink, and his mother's voice was heard again, telling him to hurry, that she had to tell him something.

_ Dominique _ began for the fourth time in the day, but the thousandth time in his life.

Finally he limited himself to dressing in his usual white buttoned shirt and his black shorts along with the suspenders, long socks and quickers. He looked in the mirror of his room for a few seconds before taking the breakfast tray and heading out of the room, climbing the steps until finally walking down the short hallway and arriving at the living room in which his mother and sister were. Anne was walking from side to side, carrying clothes in her hands and a broom, Gemma was drinking tea, sitting on the sofa and watching television. Her mother must have been in a very good mood as she hated it when her children spent time watching inappropriate cartoons.

—Morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling today? —Anne says, approaching her son and leaving a kiss on his cheek. The boy simply smiles, trying to show that everything was going well in spite of having killed two people and provoking a heart attack on his father. —Listen, today you'll be alone for a few hours because we're having a family reunion. I don't think you should attend, we won't talk about pretty things for your little ears and you'll be more comfortable here.

—Okay, mommy.

After a few minutes he returned from the kitchen, in which he had left the tray, and went to Gemma's side. He sat on the sofa and his sister didn't hesitate to wrap him in her arms, loving his younger brother's curls against her chin.

—Do you know why dad won't talk to me? —Harry suddenly asked, taking his sister off guard, who stopped watching "Porky Pig," the cartoon of the moment.

—He's probably sorry and doesn't know how to say it. You have to give him time.

Harry nods doubtfully. He can't help but think that Louis has something to do with it, he even thinks he's almost certain because, come on, that can't just happen from one moment to the other. Can it? If Louis had done or said something, the curly boy would start to believe that the Devil wasn't as intelligent as he seemed. He hoped his father wouldn't surprise him in a couple of days with any nonsense. He really, really hoped so.

His sister moved away just to lower her gaze and observe her younger brother with one of her little smiles. They resembled each other quite a lot if it weren't for the fact that the little one's eyes were much larger and his nose shorter than Gemma's.

—You know what my friends told me today? That there will be a Blood Moon. —Harry would have died of fear were it not for the fact that he carried the Devil with him more than twenty-four hours a day. He just stared at her, blinking slowly and not even shuddering.. —But it's not Halloween yet, so don't worry. —She concluded, surprised that her brother didn't show the slightest bit of terror.

The fact that there would be a bloody moon had always terrified him, all because of Gemma and her legends that it was the night when shadows came out to hunt for pure souls. He would probably have died of fear at that moment, but a shadow was really hunting him, and on top of that he had fallen in love with that shadow. It couldn't get any worse.

—Gemma, I heard you. —Their mother warned her. —I don't want to hear the word "Halloween" in this house. Harry's a little delicate. —Louis' low, sarcastic laughter became audible at that moment, Gemma just sighed as she looked back at the television and the curly boy blushed completely.

He didn't even notice when he fell deeply asleep.

Although he was asleep when his mother kissed him goodbye, his eyes opened as soon as the front door closed. There would have been absolute silence had it not been for the cartoon on television. He realized he was covered with a blanket, with his head on a cushion and completely flushed.  _ Dominique _ was no longer being heard, thanks to heaven. He sighed before sitting slowly, stretching as he held both of his little fist to his eyes, rubbing. Was everyone gone? He looked around.

—Mommy? Gemm? —He calls, but nobody answers. It's obvious that they are gone. It's when he stops yawning that the television turns off. He stayed watching it and noticed the reflection of someone standing behind him. —Lou?

When he turns around, little by little, the light in the kitchen, corridor and living room turn off. It's completely dark, and he feels a heavy breath on his neck that lasts a few seconds. Frightened, he turns suddenly and notices that there is a little light upstairs, which reveals Louis standing, his hands full of rings in his trouser pockets, staring at him. Was he challenging him to come up?

—Lou? —He, ignoring the call, glances at his favorite boy before walking away from his sight, heading to the right side of the upper floor. To the terrace, of course. A trembling sigh fell from his lips and, not before verifying through the living room window that his father's car was gone, he rubbed his face for the last time and climbed the stairs, heading for the stairs that would take him to the terrace.

It's pretty open, spacious. The walls around it are low, which allows to admire all the town. The green of the grass, the smoke coming out of the chimney of the houses, ready for winter. Nature, some airplanes passing by... appreciate the sky, above all, which was slowly darkening, with the moon already making its presence.

The Devil was close to the edge, walking until he was on one side, with his back to the child. The latter advanced until he was beside the tall man. It made him a little dizzy to be near the walls, but he armed himself with courage and concentrated on admiring the beautiful landscape.

It was relaxing, it gave him peace inside, after not having felt it for a long time. The entity next to him looked more than calm, with his gaze fixed on him. It was as if he sensed that he would ask a question.

—Louis... Why won't my father talk to me? —He couldn't help it. He knew it wasn't a coincidence. Something had happened.

—I told him not to come near you.. —The Devil calmly said.

—You talked to him? —He could see out of the corner of his eye how he nodded slowly. He tried to swallow the knot that formed in his throat thanks to the fear, without much success. —B-but... Now he'll know that I have you with me. He'll know I had something to do with Brad's death..

Louis looked straight ahead with a slight frown. It was then that Harry took the opportunity to look at him, his eyes slowly filling with tears that would soon come out.

—You had nothing to do with Brad's death. I did that while you were sleeping.

He doesn't know if it was the harshness of his words, the lack of feelings in Louis that frightened him, or the guilt that plagued his soul little by little, but the moment he looked down and tried with all his strength not to cry, a low and weak sob escaped from his mouth. He quickly covered it with one of his hands as he closed his eyes and tears fell silently down his cheeks.

The archangel kept staring at him. He wasn't surprised that his favorite boy was crying, for he knew that his pure soul was intertwined with the sensibility in his heart, but for some reason... his chest hurt when he saw him like that. —Why are you crying?

—It's just that... —He hiccupped, sipping his nose before wiping away his tears with his small, thin fingers, leaving his pale cheeks completely wet. —...I'm a bad person, and I'm assuming it just now. —He couldn't help but confess, with unbearable pain in his chest.

Louis immediately held him in his arms, huddling him in his chest as the boy broke down into loud sobs.

—You are not. —In spite of his desperation at seeing Harry like that, his voice was completely neutral. —And I'm telling you. You know who I am, what they call me and what I can do.

Harry laughed between tears, sipping his nose and swallowing before moving away a little. Louis' fingertips pressed lightly on his boy's back as he ran his tongue over his red, wet lips.

—I just w-wanted to be happy... I didn't know what to do when they bothered me, or hit me. I know it's wrong that you kill people so easily, in my world, of course. But... I never felt as protected as I do now. So...

He couldn't explain it, but Louis nodded indicating that, whatever Harry was feeling, he was feeling it too.

Both remained silent for a couple of seconds, and the curly boy took advantage of that to try to calm his breathing and wipe his face better.

—You want to see what I can do? —Louis asked unexpectedly, raising both eyebrows with an air of superiority. When he noticed that the little one wasn't reacting in any way, he let out a long sigh and placed his hands on his shoulders, turning him until he had his back to him. He bowed slightly and brushed his lips against his boy's ear. —Look at the sky.

The curly boy looked up immediately and had to blink a couple of times when he noticed how the evening was turning into a night in an abnormal way. The stars lit the blue sky beautifully as the moon became bigger and, little by little, red. He immediately remembered his sister talking about the eclipse, but he didn't imagine it would look so beautiful. It shone so brightly with the glow of the moon that the burgundy seemed to spread across the sky..

—Wow... —He doesn't even know what to say. He can barely count a star without getting lost. He simply sighs deeply, unable to believe what the meanest being on earth could do.

The Devil moved away a little, only to stay at a reasonable distance and extend his hand full of rings towards the shortest. —Have you ever danced with the Devil on your terrace under the light of the blood moon? —Harry tried not to smile while slowly denying. That's when Louis smirked raising his eyebrows a little. —Do you want to?

He would never say no to feeling that intoxicating closeness..

And something told him he was really going to be a bad boy tonight.


	11. VIII. "Dancing with the Devil" II/II

Harry didn't hesitate to accept the hand that the King of Darkness held out to him. In spite of him being that, his trust was totally on the entity. He didn't care so much about getting hurt, even more so knowing that he would go to hell anyway, but he would put all his trust in Louis. Absolutely all of it.

With a gentle tug, the Devil pulled him close to his body and wrapped an arm around his waist as Harry placed one of his small hands on his chest. He could feel how warm his skin was, and they joined their hands together, fitting together perfectly, as if they were made for each other.

Without further ado, the Devil began to dance slowly, rocking them both at a slow pace. Harry stumbled on his feet, because there was nothing he could follow. Nervous, he tried to swallow the knot in his throat and laughed falsely, flushed and very, very embarrassed.

—There's no music... —he whispered, really hoping not to break the precious atmosphere that had formed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Devil smirking.

—Look at me in the eyes.

He couldn't help raising both eyebrows, surprised to hear those words coming from his mouth. He frowned grimly and looked down. The beeping itself was annoying, and he knew that he wouldn't last more than a second hearing it louder. It was like feeling like his head was going to explode..

He shook his head slowly. —I can't...

—Look at me.

—I-it's just… the beeping... —He hoped Louis wouldn't get angry.. —There's a beeping when I do it.

—Harry... —The named one suddenly became very nervous, and more so when he felt the Devil bow a little, and his breath touched his face like a slight breeze.

—And it hurts a little. I'm sorry.

Louis' hand loosens one of the youngest, and brings it to the latter's chin, lifting it calmly.. —Look at me.

Harry looks up, observing between his eyelashes the Devil's blue and red eyes. The beeping makes his head throb from the sudden pain that shakes his bones, but it goes away in a fleeting manner, without leaving a trace.

A soft melody begins to play. A violin leaves the beeping behind, and it sounds so sad that Harry's eyes begin to water. The Devil, pretending not to notice and without taking his eyes off the boy's, brings his hand from his chin back to the boy's hand, interlacing their fingers and sighing before starting to sway again.

This time Harry can follow in the footsteps, smoothly, calmly. Tears fall silently down his face, he's hiccuping and even trembling, but he never takes his eyes off Louis'. He'll enjoy looking at the most terrifying piece of art.

—What...? —He swallows and then sighs so that his voice wouldn't sound so broken.. —...What's that?

—Giuseppe Tartini.

Harry couldn't help but blink in surprise. His cousin Brad used to terrorize him with stories about that famous violinist, but after so many sleepless nights due to the fear of that name, even in those months he wouldn't have believed it.

—Is he in hell?

—He gave me his soul. —Louis whispers.

Reality begins to fall on his little body after hearing that. Because it's obvious. Louis is the Devil, he's a simple human. He has sold his soul, and the Devil was a manipulator. He was going to have the same destiny as everyone else, and nothing was going to change that. He shouldn't believe these acts of affection, but he couldn't help it..

—I don't understand why I'm not scared.

—I'm doing it. —As Harry blinks, dumbfounded and in tears, Louis leans to rub his lips against the boy's ear. —You fell...

—...Mh?

—You fell. You fell in love with me.

Bewildered, Harry steps back just a little so he can stare at Louis. His thin, short legs begin to tremble, and his heart is pounding. After a deep breath he closes his eyes and rests his cheek on the Devil's chest.

—Yeah. —He admits. Suddenly, something like a strong heartbeat emerges from the chest of the eldest. They are incredibly fast. Harry sobs. —I didn't know the Devil had a heart.

—Me neither.

His sobs get louder before he looks up at Louis again.. —Lou... —He's begs sobbing. He's in pain, his chest hurts from so much sadness in it. —What did I ask for?

Louis stops swaying immediately. He looks serious, he looks intimidating, he looks beautiful. As always.

—You gave me your soul. You couldn't find any kind of true love in any of the people around you, not even your mother, who would give everything for you. You knew... —His sobs started to come out stronger when he realized what it was. He felt a pressure in his chest, in his throat. He couldn't stop shaking, he didn't know how to feel. —You knew I was going to be the only one who could do everything for you.

—I-I just...

—You asked someone to love you honestly. You asked to feel loved. —He says. —And I should have taken your soul as soon as you felt something for me... but there's a problem. —Harry sipped his nose, raising his face to look at the Devil's eyes again. —You felt something for me from the first moment you saw me. I couldn't take your soul with me, but not just because I wanted to have fun... I felt something the night you invited me to lie next to you.

—...Something?

—In my chest. —He looks so confident that Harry suddenly has hopes. —I felt what you feel for me. —He confirmed, bowing slightly as he let go of the boy's hand and wrapped his waist better. The curly boy couldn't help it, and brought both arms really slowly towards Louis' neck, standing on his tiptoes. —And a heart. The beating starts when I hold you in my arms.

—Louis... —His breath brushed against that of the older one, making him more clumsy than he felt he was. The closeness drove him mad, and he felt that this time...

...This time something would really happen.

—You're a bad boy, you fell in love with me. —Harry sobs again, but Louis gives him a soft, unexpected kiss on the lips. It's a quick one, but it leaves Harry speechless. —I'm going to keep my end of the deal. Today you will be the most beloved human on earth...

Without further ado, the Devil's lips took slowly and deeply those of his boy. The boy's breathing was cut short and he allowed Louis to give him everything first, since he had never given himself an idea of what a kiss was like. Little by little he began to move his lips, following his compass and lowering his eyelids, relaxing his body and mind for the first time in the day.

He couldn't believe he was in that situation. He always believed that there was a hunger in both of them, and although Harry had longed for it, it was still surprising that it was happening. He sighed through his nose and tilted his face as the Devil did so in the opposite direction, deepening the kiss. Harry could feel the older man's tongue entering his mouth and touching his own. An unrecognizable tingling settled in his belly, and given the innocence of never having experienced it, he moved a little away from Louis' lips.

—Close your eyes… and don't open them. —The entity ordered. Harry observed him for a few seconds before obeying. Again Louis' lips began to slowly kiss him.

Everything seemed to be turning, he even clung more to the king of darkness as he felt he might stumble. However, he didn't open his eyes, he even closed them tighter. When everything stopped, the Devil removed his lips from Harry's, but Harry didn't open his eyes. He kept breathing through his mouth, his lips red and slightly swollen, his cheeks flushed and his curls somewhat disheveled because of the wind on the terrace. Everything seemed warmer where he was, calmer.

A sigh was the first thing he heard. —If you knew how you looked right now... fucking hell. —Louis said. It wasn't only because of how beautiful his favorite boy was, but also because of how obedient he proved to be, since he didn't open his eyes at any time. He smirked before speaking. —Open them.

The curly boy does it immediately, blinking a couple of times before noticing that he was in his room, a bit in the dark and at the end of his bed. Had they... transported there so easily?

Well... it's not like he's making out with someone ordinary.

Louis encircled his waist possessively, and Harry lifted his face, tiptoeing his feet and making it very obvious that he was longing for another of the many kisses the Devil gave him. The Devil didn't refuse and pleased his boy, kissing him deeply while holding him against his body. After a few seconds the curly boy could no longer avoid releasing low, almost inaudible sounds from his throat. Kissing Louis was his new favorite thing, and he liked the way he was being held and pampered so much that he couldn't help but show it with those soft sounds.

The Devil took his mouth away from the boy's and began kissing his cheek, jaw and finally reached his neck, running his warm tongue through Harry's perfect warm skin. Harry opened his mouth slightly, trying to remain silent as he felt a slight burning from the Devil's mouth sucking on his skin. The tingling in his belly returned and he just clung more to the older man's neck, fearful but feeling strangely well.

—What are you feeling? —Louis said, still leaving kisses on his boy's skin, also behind his ear, with his curls tickling his face.

—I feel... —He fell silent as the older man's face returned to face his and left soft but short kisses on his lips. Could he feel more awed? —...hot.

He could feel Louis' light smile on his lips. —Does my favorite boy need help? —His voice sounded hoarse, even a little enthusiastic. Harry just stood still, not knowing exactly what to say.

The Devil's ring-filled hands began to unbutton the curly boy's white shirt. The latter began to feel nerves sprouting from his body, embarrassment building up in the pink of his cheeks as he noticed Louis staring at his thin torso with no shame.

Several times Louis had pretended not to be there, and had seen Harry slowly undressing to go shower. He was fascinated by his pale porcelain skin, how small he looked in his underwear and socks. When he went into the shower or bathtub he longed -  _ he really did _ \- to lick the drops that slipped down his favorite boy's back. He wanted to hug him from behind and lick his whole body.

The archangel slid the suspenders over his shoulders to remove them from the way, and also got rid of the shirt that covered the precious skin of the shorter boy. He threw it to the floor, no caring if it got dirty, and carried both hands towards the boy's lower back, who shuddered from the cold of the rings against his skin.

A deep sigh came from Louis' chest. —You don't know how long I've been waiting to touch you like this... —He confessed as he lifted his hands up the sides of the child, feeling his ribs. —It was torture not to feel you all this time.

Harry didn't dare to ask, simply returning the kiss that the eldest gave him, feeling small at the caresses to his torso, exposed, somewhat embarrassed. It wasn't as if he was fascinated by his body.

Louis drifted apart just a little bit. —Come. —He bowed a little and passed an arm under Harry's legs, lifting him. Everything he did he was doing with tremendous delicacy, and it was that he couldn't just corrupt the boy because he was a person with a soul too pure and everything he was experiencing was new.

He left him delicately on the bed, lying while he stood on the side. Harry simply looked at him, looking down as soon as he noticed the Devil taking off his shoes with the help of his own feet, followed by unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off. His skin was of a normal tone, fit and completely tattooed. There were unintelligible words, symbols that he didn't dare ask for meaning. He was beautiful, perfect.

He lay on his back as Louis looked at the boy's body, staring at his shorts and smirking. —Take them off.

Harry swallowed before taking his little hands towards the shorts, beginning to lower it and averting his gaze, ashamed to be undressing for the Devil. Finally he was left in his underwear and put the garment aside, out of bed. He didn't look up at all, only when Louis slowly positioned his body over his, close enough to kiss him.

After a few minutes, the curly boy began to calm down thanks to the exquisite kisses Louis left on his lips and the way he caressed his skin. He leaned with one arm on one side of his boy's body, and the other hand he used to take his thigh and stroke it from top to bottom. He never got tired of whispering things to the curly boy, who was a nervous wreck at first but slowly began to relax. He had always been terrified of such close contact with people, or with their bodies, but with Louis everything felt strangely good. He felt protected, he knew he wasn't going to get hurt, and he wanted to.

He wanted it so bad.

Inevitably, Louis lowered his hips, creating an exquisite friction between their members. Slow and warm sensations were propagated in the body of the minor, who responded to those mutual caresses with sighs and slight movements of his pelvis, even squeezing his legs. He liked what he was feeling, he liked who he was doing it with. He was being so, so bad. A very bad boy.

—U-uhm... —He tilted his face as soon as Louis' tongue licked his jaw slowly, reaching behind his ear and slowly kissing that area. It was like a weak spot of the boy, it made him tremble and feel much warmer. —Lou...

—Do you like it? —Harry nodded. —Touch me. —Louis couldn't help but enjoy the whole thing, and even more so with his new kink. Something so pure letting himself be carried away by something that was wrong... but felt so good.

Harry's hands went shyly behind the Devil's back. He was warm, soft. He liked it. He almost purrs as he caresses the Devil's spine from top to bottom. He is too focused on everything his body is feeling, everything his body wants, and even more, what it needed.

Louis' skin was one of his favorite things, and with every passing second he became addicted to feel against the tips of his thin little fingers. He couldn't stop, he couldn't believe that everything that was happening was real.

He ended up wrapping the archangel's neck and clinging to it as soon as Louis pulled back to remove his pants. Harry quickly looked away as soon as he noticed that the eldest was completely naked under that garment. He had been taken by surprise! Nerves seized him when Louis approached again, gently kissing his boy's lips before starting to lower his underwear.

Harry was perplexed, his eyes tightly closed and cheeks red as he felt himself completely naked to the Devil, exposed. The latter removed the shoes and socks of the boy, who closed his legs and tried to cover himself.

—Fucking hell... —Louis said, sighing so deeply that the pictures on the wall shook slightly. He leaned towards the boy's ear and bit it gently. —I'm going to lick you whole body.

And so he did. He began by licking his lips, followed by his jaw and descending to his neck, biting softly there. He kissed his clavicles and then went down a little lower, rubbing his lips against one of the boy's nipples. The boy got goosebumps, and he couldn't help forming an "O" with his lips as soon as the entity began to suck slightly, passing his tongue delicately before taking care of the other.

His back began to arch as the tongue moved through his stomach, his flat abdomen, finally reaching his belly. He left soft kisses on his belly as he placed his huge warm hands on the boy's hips, holding him firmly. His breath grazed the boy's penis, but even though he was very close, that wasn't his goal. He looked up at the green eyes that watched him confused and excited.

—You're gonna be a good boy, and you're gonna tell me everything you feel. —He ordered. The Devil's new kink, hearing his favorite boy say pure filth. Harry nodded slowly, hesitantly and somewhat nervously at not knowing what he would feel.

Louis pressed on the curly boy's belly firmly so that he couldn't move, taking with his other hand one of the small, soft thighs to separate it a little from the other, leaving his small hole visible. He smirked before leaning more, exhaling slowly over it. Harry shook a little, not really achieving much as he was pressed against the mattress. His mouth parted even more when he felt something warm and wet in that private area, something which made him shiver slightly at first, but finally having currents of pleasure from the base of his member expanding through his belly and flowing slowly and exquisitely through his veins.

His breath was stuck in his throat, he needed to close his eyes, with his body relaxed but tense at the same time. He couldn't help moving his hips, and released a groan in the middle of a moan when he was motionless. The hand of the entity was heavy, such a supernatural force.

—Lou… ah. —Unable to move his hips, he simply arched his back slightly, tilting his head and bringing his hands slowly to the sides of his head, squeezing the pillowcase delicately with his small, thin fingers. —U-uhm...

**_“Tell me what you're feeling.”_ ** a voice whispered in his head.

Harry finally closed his eyes, groaning low, shameful, completely blushing but gone for the pleasure of those warm caresses, which were slow, suddenly becoming fast before going back to being like in the beginning.

—I feel, uhm… something weird. —He frowned a little as soon as he felt something warm and soft -  _ clearly knowing that it was the older man's tongue _ \- suddenly entering him a little. He tried to get used to it, and when he did he noticed it with a light layer of sweat that covered his body. —Heat… bursts of something, a-ah, it feels good...

His member throbbed hard, he loved the caresses that the entity provided on the inner part of his thigh. He drifted away from his entrance as soon as he noticed that he couldn't resist Harry's moans. They were too much for him, and he was as sure as hell that he had never felt anything so strong in his entire existence.

He kissed his belly before coming up and kissing him deeply on the lips, kneeling as he took the boy's thighs and separated them, positioning himself between them. In the middle of a long kissing session, the Devil kept rubbing his member against the boy's entrance. That was all, and the boy moaned gladly, even wanting more as he moved his hips in circles.

—You’re such a good boy, Harry... —The sound of the kisses interrupted his speech, and the trembling moans of the curly boy created a better atmosphere. Louis grunted low, as if he had a beast in his chest. It was something like that, because he really needed to fuck him with all his might, but something told him that he had to protect this little boy.

He couldn't. Even the cruelest being in the universe couldn't hurt Harry.

There was no need to prepare him, he could do it and in a better way. He moved away from his boy's lips and stared into his eyes. Harry seemed lost in his world every time Louis stared at him, and he was obsessed with the peculiar originality of those blue and red eyes. He simply loved to see how red became celestial, it was like seeing heaven and hell at the same time.

Harry didn't want to be in any if it meant not having Louis by his side.

—Look at me, don't stop looking at me, boy —He ordered. He kept giving orders, and no one complained. Louis' arms took Harry's thighs better before bringing him closer to his member. One hand lowered to his erection and aligned it with the boy's entrance, who swallowed forcefully. —Don't stop looking at me, darling.

Distracted as he melted internally with that nickname, his eyes widened as he felt a burning in his entrance, something making its way inside. It was when he closed his eyes tightly that Louis stopped.

—Look at me. —He commanded again, his voice deepening. Harry's teary eyes immediately opened, staring into the older man's and feeling a tingle where his member was making its way.

There was no pain, the burning was too mild to notice, not like at first, and he could only keep his lips parted, not failing to look at the love of his life. The latter had also opened his mouth slightly, with pupils dilating and the precious light blue turning into a deep blue.

—Fuck. Does it hurt? —Harry shook his head slowly. However, he could feel that little by little he was running out of air. He was so full, he was so big. —Good. Don't you dare stop looking at me.

Louis began moving his hips in a slight, slow sway at first, watching his boy closely. It seemed as if he wanted to decipher some change in him, some complaint or sign that he was suffering, but he could only feel proud, smirking when a sigh escaped from the boy's mouth, parting more his reddish, plump lips that the Devil liked so much.

The sway was just as slow, but a little deeper. Heat invaded them both, and now they were more comfortable. Their bodies glued together, sharing slow kisses from time to time. Louis caressed Harry's fragile and delicate figure, going from his waist to his hips, holding him and pressing his fingertips against his skin, knowing he would later have a mark. Heat radiated from their bodies, moans were audible even on the first floor and they just didn't feel like they could stop.

The boy was more than grateful that he wasn't feeling any kind of pain, and the memory of that burning had completely evaporated after he felt all the currents of pleasure flowing through his veins. Louis' sway had become a little quicker, a little abrupt after he had found the right angle to touch the boy's sweet spot. He could stop looking into his eyes, but they just didn't want to. They felt more connected than normal, as if they could feel each other.

Harry, very focused on what his body was experiencing for the first time, never heard the noise of the front door opening.

—We’re home! —It was heard.

Immediately Harry took a deep breath, surprised with his guard down and frightened as he stopped moving and stared at the door of his room, suddenly feeling very bad. He was sinning so much! Far from being a pure soul. So far!

Louis didn't stop his ramming. Pretending not to have noticed it, he simply began to leave soft, wet kisses on the skin of the boy's neck, accelerating. Harry, blinded by pleasure, wrapped his arms around the Devil's neck and closed his eyes, tightening his legs. He needed to enjoy, he needed to think.

—Harry! Are you sleeping? —Footsteps became audible on the stairs and his whole body froze, opening his eyes in the direction of the door.

As if by magic, the lock moved on its own, locking the door before it opened. The knob turned a couple of times before a deep, exhausting sigh was heard and steps climbed back up to the first floor.

Harry's whole body relaxed again, trying to calm the racing beats of his heart before hugging Louis better, clutching in fear and pressing his lips against the Devil's warm shoulder to silence his loud gasps, releasing sounds against the older man's skin.

The thrusts grew harder, so much so that Harry began to claw his nails into the skin of the biceps of the King of Darkness, who breathed deeply and grunted from time to time, also panting hoarsely while the bed squeaked a little. Both were about to come, and Harry was getting blurry as the climax loomed, for he had never experienced it, and had little idea what it was.

—L-Lou, uhm... AH! —It was when Louis' teeth slightly bit the boy's earlobe that he arched his back, surrendering to the pleasant sensation of his body being slowly immersed in a great wave of satisfaction and liberation. His breath caught, he trembled for a few seconds and his essence spilled from his member, staining both torsos.

Louis kept ramming into his favorite boy, finishing inside of him seconds later. Both panting for a little air as they hugged, skin to skin between the messy sheets. Harry kept his eyes closed and lips ajar as the eldest took his face, watching him with a sly smile and then devouring his mouth, slowly and deeply, both caressing each other's tongues.

—You did so well, boy. —He praised at the same time that the youngest clutched his arms better to the Devil's neck, embracing him.

—...You did it.

—Mh? —He rubbed his nose against the boy's neck, who closed his eyes.

—Make me feel like the most loved human being on earth. You did it.


	12. IX. "Exchange Of Souls"

Honestly, Harry thought he wouldn't be able to sleep that night. After making love he felt like he couldn't sleep a wink. The Devil had said that he would be the most loved human of all the earth... But "today". Just for today, and that's it.

And that hadn't slipped out of his head at all. Yet Louis' warm, comfortable arms wrapped his body in a way that made him feel protected and exhausted. He was more sleepy than he had ever been, and he even though Louis might be doing that. However, he was tired enough to start crying, or properly saying goodbye to the - _ now _ \- love of his life, even if this was the one that would end up killing him.

The eldest ran his warm fingertips through the boy's pale, soft arm, who shuddered with the touch as his sight grew increasingly cloudy. By the time he noticed, he had fallen asleep.

And he woke up the next day.

The pain he felt in his muscles was inexplicable, the heaviness of his body and the slight uneasiness in his chest made it worse. The blankets covered his figure and that of the person hugging him from behind, which made everything warmer. Taking away the uneasiness he carried, he was really happy. He had kissed for the first time, he had made love for the first time, all with Louis. With the Devil.

Nothing could go wrong anymore.

He stirred a little when he felt the king of darkness's hand caressing his belly. Clearly he was awake... Did he even sleep?

_ Was he even still alive or was it all an illusion? _

—Mh. —Louis releases a sound after sniffing Harry's curls. —You smell like I made you mine. —He says.

He pulls at the curly boy's body, who begins to turn around until he faces the older man's naked body. His ear no longer makes that strange sound, and now he can look into his eyes as many times as he wants. However, he feels too embarrassed to do it, but he keeps staring at his lips. Louis takes that as a sign and doesn't refuse to leave a soft kiss on the lips of his favorite boy, who seemed rather lost in thought. The Devil moved away just a little to watch him, waiting for him to speak.

—I’m still here... —The curly boy said, blinking slowly and shyly wrapping his arms around the older man's neck as soon as he came closer and began to leave warm kisses on the skin of his neck.

—Yes.

—N-nothing happened to me. —He stuttered. He still felt some fear, and it was as if Louis could feel it as he wrapped his waist better. He pulled his beautiful face away from his boy's neck and they stared at each other for the first time in the day. It was beautiful. —Why?

Again they continued to observe each other's eyes for a few seconds. The Devil sighed, smirking with a delirious slowness before turning the boy's body a little, leaving him on his back and positioning himself on top. He stroked his thigh carefully, stroking Harry's member under the sheets. He looked down shyly, biting his lower lip so as not to sigh like a fool.

Louis' face slowly descends to his ear, gently biting the earlobe. —Because I want and I can. —He simply replied.

Partly Harry's afraid of that. He thinks that he could disappear at any moment, without having a valid justification, just a  _ "Because I want and I can". _

—Oh. —He says, again clinging to Louis' neck when he pulled away to look into his eyes. Harry dared to raise his gaze, crossing his gaze with that of the Devil

—And I'm going to enjoy you a little longer... because I want and I can. —Without further ado, he catches his boy's lips between his own, kissing him slowly and deeply, tilting his head so that his noses don't bump.

Harry sighed through his nose, following that rhythm much better than before. Less nervous, more relaxed, protected between the arms of the one who influenced the bad feelings, but made him feel everything good.

Just him.

Their tongues caressed each other between small sounds that Harry released, both pressed against each other's bodies, with Louis gently rubbing his member with his boy's, loving the way he looked so small and delicate under his body, between his arms.

—Oh, fuck. —He complained, turning away and putting on his worst face. Harry looked at him with some fear, fearing that he had done something wrong, but the knocking on the door didn't give him time to ask.

—Harry! Are you awake? —His mother's voice made itself present.

Harry looked at the Devil, who dismissed it and kissed the boy's lips again, signaling him to keep quiet. The curly boy obeyed and continued the kiss, dumbfounded, loving the feeling of the little tickles on his belly.

The doorknob turns suddenly, unsuccessfully. The door still doesn't open and everything thanks to the lock that Louis put with his mind during sex... it was strange to say. —Harry! Are you awake?

They continue kissing. Harry knows that Louis thinks she's going to leave, but he knows his mother, and she won't leave until she receives an answer. However, he continues being obedient and doesn't refuse the exquisite kisses the Devil gives him.

—Son? Harry!

Louis pulls away with a grim face. —Answer. —He commands in a cold tone of voice. The child's skin becomes bristly and the Devil seems to notice. 

He clears his throat before he responds. —I’m coming, mommy.

—Open up, honey. —Anne asks, turning the knob uselessly a couple of times.

—Uhm… My head hurts a little bit. —He lies, and the Devil smiles sideways, delighting. —Can I sleep for twenty minutes? —Louis raises both eyebrows, as if asking him if he really meant it. That wouldn't be enough for everything he wanted to do to him. —Thirty? —Harry offers hesitantly, innocently.

The older one rolls his eyes and puts on a gloomy face before leaving soft kisses on the lips of his favourite child. Oh, fuck it. He would play with time, he didn't want to waste having the purest child on earth naked and in his arms.

—Honey, we have to go to church. —His mother insists in a sweet tone.

—I know. Just a little bit, can l? —Harry almost begs against the Devil's lips, who thrusts his hips against the boy's, stealing a sigh from him.

—...Okay. —Anne agrees. Louis immediately starts kissing the boy. —Just a little bit. I'll bring you breakfast in half an hour. But we'll go to church, do you hear me, Harry? We'll go.

He ignores his mother's order because he is too lost in the caresses that the archangel provides on his lips, and in how the archangel's fingers move towards his entrance, caressing it.

—Lou. —He lets out, his little eyes closing as soon as two fingers enter him beginning to move in the form of scissors, slowly and deliriously.

Small groans escape from his lips, opening more his legs and feeling a slight layer of sweat cover his small body while the Devil continues to kiss his lips and touch his sweet spot with the tips of his fingers. He felt Louis pull his face away just a little bit, as if he was watching him. Then caresses on his curls and deep sighs from the eldest were present.

—You look so... corrupted by me. —The Devil says, coming down to kiss the lips of his favorite boy as he begins to rub against his hip, he's blinded by the waves of pleasure that invade him with a delirious slowness.

Minutes later he climaxes for the second time in his life. He would like to feel that delicious sensation for the rest of his days, he has become addicted to it.

Harry is drawn to Louis' chest, and still can’t believe the situation he finds himself in. He never imagined that he would invoke the Devil, that he would sell him his soul, not to mention that by doing so he would fall so madly in love.

The fear that Louis might not love him was gone from his chest, for his sake or else he would go mad with the passing of days.  **"Whatever has to happen will happen"** and he would try to wait patiently.

Enjoy what little he has left.

The older one gently stroked the younger's cheek, causing the boy to raise his face and the two of them to look at each other for a few seconds. The entity breathed a deep sigh before slowly shaking his head..

—What's going on? —Harry couldn't help but show his concern, blushing and tilting his head a little.

Silence becomes present for just a couple of seconds before Louis decides to tell him. —Your family suspects.

It's as if the air in the room was slowly disappearing, and Harry's head - _ which had been hurting since he woke up _ \- was about to explode. He found himself shaking like a leaf seconds after hearing him, and the Devil didn't hesitate to snuggle him closer, beginning to kiss his neck.

—...What?

—They suspect you've got something wrong. —He said with his lips glued against the boy's skin. —They don't know what, they don't think I'm real, but they know there's something. And they're going to be more suspicious now, because you look terrible.

Harry's throat seemed to slam shut as his body froze and thousands of insecurities hovered over his head; Insecurities about him, his physique, his personality, and the clumsy innocence he hated so much.

In high school he was almost always told he wasn't very pretty, or laughed at for being the shortest at sixteen, he tried not to care. But for Louis to tell him that he looked terrible, no matter how he said it, it was a pretty low blow.

Louis lifts Harry's chin with his hand as he sees the tears fall from his green eyes. He can't help but smile sideways. —Is my favorite boy doubting his beauty? —He couldn't help it. He approached slowly and kissed over a tear, savoring the sadness of the curly boy. —Just because of what I said?

—Y-yes.

Louis' smile slowly fades as he connects his gaze with Harry's. Both are staring at each other, and the youngest notices that the Devil is about to say something that should have stayed in his head. He looked offended and indignant, for some reason.

—May this be the last time you think I find you unpleasant. You are the most precious and pure thing that my eyes have ever witnessed.

Harry's cheeks seem to be about to burst as he quickly wipes his tears and shyly looks away. For some reason, Louis talking to him in that way makes him remember that he is exposed, naked against his body, and feels that he is drowning in shame, although he doesn't plan to move either.

—I'm sorry...

Louis releases his chin and hugs him more against him after the apology. For some reason, he looks like he's forgiven him. Was this precious man really the Devil?

—You look terrible because I have been here a long time. We were closer than we should have been, and I got inside your head. You look very sick. —He says, observing in detail the boy's face. Pale, hollow-eyed, thinner, with slight empty eyes. Very slight.

—You got inside my head? —Surprised and unable to understand the reference, he only blinks slowly and looks at Louis, who keeps staring at him in the eyes. —How?

The Devil's sly smile makes him sigh in a gawky way as he approaches his left ear, kissing it. It's a real relief to be able to hear such a beautiful voice without the beeping.

—Do you think your first time wasn't going to hurt? —He cannot help licking behind his ear, which causes the boy's entire body to shudder. —I made you look into my eyes to get inside your head so you wouldn't feel pain.

**Oh.**

It was kind of overwhelming. It was like having been possessed.

—Oh... oh, wow. —The Devil pulls away and looks into his eyes. Harry is immersed in his thoughts as he lowers his gaze to the torso of the eldest, which is full of tattoos. He keeps caressing them with the tip of his index finger, his hand comfortably resting on the entity's stomach. He finally sighs. He can't stop thinking. —Lou... What are we gonna do? How am I gonna go to church? As soon as I walk in I begin to vomit or suffocate. I don't want to feel that anymore.

—You're not gonna feel it. —He calms him down immediately, causing him to close his eyes and sigh in relief. One less problem. —I'm gonna go.

His eyes open immediately, and his hands automatically go to Louis' biceps, holding on to them and quickly shaking his head.

—What? No. No, no. Stay.

—Boy, believe me, I'd love to see everyone's face if they knew I was real, but it's not that easy.

**_Not since you're finally mine, and everyone can hurt you._ **

Harry's about to start crying. —I don't want you to go... Last time was horrible. —His voice trembles and his eyes fill with tears. Louis looks at him in a neutral way, wanting him to continue telling him how it was without him. He needed to know. The youngest swallows with force and lowers his gaze. The knot in his throat doesn't go away. —I mean, I was relieved not to feel the uneasiness, or the beeping in my ear. But the emptiness I felt in my chest... It was unbearable.

He seems not to notice how the Devil's muscles tightened, or how he seems to be frozen, motionless. He even seems lost in his thoughts, or as if he knew or was plotting something. Harry startles when he feels the cold hit him. Louis has stopped hugging him and has gotten out of bed. He dresses so fluently that Harry is impressed while he just sits on the bed, closing his eyes when he receives a strong dizziness and then opening them again.

—Are you... Are you going to leave? —He asks with a choppy voice as he swabs his body with blankets. He finds himself trembling and doesn't know if it's the cold or the fear of the emptiness he would feel.

—Yes.

He looks serious, cold to anything as he turns his back and buttons his shirt all the way up, accommodating the collar.

—Did I say something wrong? I overstepped, didn't I? I'm sorry. I didn't mean any disrespect.

As Louis turns and observes his favorite child, so small and fragile, with his body covered by blankets, his cheeks flushed, eyes filled with tears and curly hair, he can't help but walk towards him to lean over and start kissing him.

He kisses him slowly and deeply, sticking his tongue in and holding his face desperately. Harry immediately clings to his neck, needing more. Louis can't help but spoil his favorite boy

They remain kissing for a long time, lost in each other's lips, in the caresses they gave each other. Finally Louis bites his boy's lower lip, who opens his eyes slowly and looks gawky, warm and with red lips.

—I’ll be back in a day —He says, smiling sideways.

He can't help but let out an almost inaudible whimper. —O-okay. —He finally agrees, although he still disagrees.

Louis leaves one last kiss on his lips and moves away, walking to a corner of the room and staying there, watching his child. Harry continues pouting his lips, trying not to cry.

—I'll be back sooner than you think.

He nods slowly before blinking, and finally Louis is no longer there. His first breath becomes strange, and again there is that emptiness that doesn't leave him alone.

But a little bit stronger.

Harry's little hand knocks quickly and quietly at the door, hurrying and looking paranoidly around, fearing to cross paths with his mother or father, although the latter would probably ignore him.

The door finally opens, revealing her pretty sister, Gemma. —Harry, What...? Oh my God. You look terrible!

—Sh!

He quickly enters the room without even asking permission. It's pretty, pink, smells good and there's makeup on the bed. Perfect! He is about to head for it, but his sister pulls on his arm after closing the door and putting him in front of her, holding him by the cheeks with care.

—Hazzie. What's going on? You are... —Her voice shakes a little, shaking her head. —...you didn't look like this a few days ago. You haven't looked like this for weeks, and you look even worse.

—I know, I know. —He tries to reassure her by taking his own hands towards his sister's, but they are almost frozen, and she is more horrified. —I just didn't sleep. With the whole Brad thing, my appetite is gone, and I'm trying to wear loose-fitting clothes as to not worry mom. — _ What a good liar. If I liked to lie and worry people, I would flatter myself. _ —I've also worn makeup.

Gemma, now calmer couldn't help but laugh softly, staring at her brother with a faint frown. —Are you a woman or a homosexual? You can't wear makeup.

He didn't blame his sister, seriously. Although he had never followed his family's opinion of men who liked men, or men who wore makeup and supposed women's clothing, Gemma had. Many children thought the same as her, and all because of their parents. Harry set an example for himself: His mother had taught him that when he woke up it was essential to take a shower, but many people didn't do it, or did it at other times. It's how everyone raises their children but, honestly, he hopes that what Fionn had said about things changing in the world becomes true.

That men wore makeup and not be homosexual because of it, or that homosexuality won't be a sin for so many. That there won't be clothes with gender, but simply clothes. And that people will judge and pay a little less attention to what one wears, or how one is.

—I know, Gemms. —He smiles falsely, pretending to agree. Gemma walks to bed and sits down, watching her brother. —But if I don't, mom will freak out.

—Mom's already freaked out. Sit down. —She says while looking through her makeup for something that would work for her brother.

Harry sits in front of his older sister, watching as she takes something like a lipstick but is light skin color, and begins to make lines on his face, holding him by the chin.

—Why do you say mom's freaked out?

—...Do you promise not to say anything? —Nerves settled in the child's stomach at the same time he nodded. Meanwhile, his sister rubbed her index finger all over his face. —Yesterday we went to the family talk. We were supposed to talk about church issues, and aunt and uncle would give a talk about Brad. —She says Harry closes his eyes as Gemma runs her finger through his eyelids. —It wasn't like that. Mom and Dad commented on how weird you've been, how the doctors say you don't have anything but you look sick, and you act different. They say you have something bad.

Harry opens his eyes again as his sister moves away, unable to help but show some fear.

—Something... bad?

—Yeah. That you've got something bad, and they have to take it off.

Somehow anger begins to erupt from his body to the point that he feels like he's starting to sweat. Thousands of images of someone  _ -anyone- _ taking Louis from his side invade him, causing him to shake his head with anger. —That's... dumb.—He spat.

His sister gives him a serious look for a little while before she stands up. Soon there were knocks at the door. —Kids, breakfast. Hurry up.

Harry is about to stand up, but is abruptly pushed back to bed, taken by surprise and looking up somewhat frightened at his sister. His sister points her index finger at him as she stares into his eyes.—You better know what you're getting yourself into.

He blinks slowly, surprised. —...What?

—My brother would have started crying, wondering if there's really something wrong with him. —Both of them look at each other for a few seconds as Harry's eyes become watery. He lowers his gaze quickly. —I'm not saying don't do what you want, I'm saying know what you're getting yourself into. Because I... I'm not afraid of you.

—Gemms...

—And I'm not going to support you, Harry. Whatever it is, as long as it's wrong, I don't support you. —Finally she begins to gather the makeup and Harry uses it to leave the room quickly before he begins to cry.

Breakfast had been awkward as Gemma didn't take her eyes off her brother as they drank their tea and ate bread with strawberry jam. His mother talked and looked radiant, happy that Harry didn't have the face of a monster -  _ although she didn't know he actually had it and hid it under a layer of make-up _ \- and wasn't possessed enough by the Devil (when he had actually been possessed by the Devil in every way you could imagine) not to go to church. Her son was healthy, however, she had to wait for them to arrive and him not to start vomiting like a demented man with stomach problems.

They finally drove to church. His father refused to take him at first; that was something that made Harry sad. Anne convinced him with a whisper in his ear and they marched silently towards the Lord's house. No music, no loud  _ Dominique _ . Just uncomfortable silence, and Harry knew that he made the situation uncomfortable.

The mass was quiet. Harry's uncle, aunt and cousins were there, looking out of the corner of their eye at the boy who was doing things he wasn't supposed to do. God had to be really angry with him.

Eventually they all started to head for the exit when it was over, but Anne took Harry to talk to the priest and it was one more reason to name this day: "I lie and I do it great".

—Harry Styles. —He names the child with huge, accusing eyes. No, maybe he's just too paranoid. —A pleasure to have you back in the Lord's house. What were the reasons for your absence?

Harry's mouth opens to answer, but his mother decides to do it for him:

—Harry wasn't feeling very well these days. A lot of anguish inside him. —Well, she wasn't lying. There was anguish and a slight emptiness in his chest. **Louis, come back** . —I think he could use a confession. What do you think, Harry?

**No, no, no, no. No!**

—I don’t know, I... —He laughs softly, trying to find a way to get out of it without having to run away or something.

—I've got time. Harry, come with me, please. —The priest says quickly, nodding to that "closet" (Harry called it that) where people confessed.

Both go in after Anne follows her family. There is no one left in the church, only a deep silence and the echo of the priest's voice as he begins to speak.

—Let's pray first.

The older man starts praying aloud, and Harry pretends to follow him. He can't, it's just not right. At the end the silence is present again, and Harry decides to break it and tries not to sound suspicious.

—...Father? What do I do if I have nothing... nothing to say? —He stutters a little as he nervously accommodates his black suspenders.

—You don't want to confess anything?

—No. —He answers quickly.

—Your mother said you've been distressed. —Harry shrugs his shoulders. —Do you have things to confess?

—Yeah, but we all have secrets. —He says, trying to prove it wasn't necessary to reveal them. It was true. Anyone had secrets, and also had the right to not want to say it.

—It's all right, Harry. You can tell me. Is there something wrong you did? —The priest uses his tone of kindness, but it's too false. Not because the man isn't kind, but he just doesn't believe him.

—No.

—Sure?

**No** .

—Yes.

—Good. —Harry notes sideways how the man accommodates himself in his place. A sigh comes from his lips. —Anything you regret?

_ I killed my cousin, I killed two people who didn't know what they were doing, I gave my father a heart attack and now he hates me. My sister no longer trusts me, my family talks behind my back, they are afraid of me. Makeup is for women, homosexuality is wrong. I'm where I shouldn't be. _

—No.

—Harry... to confess you must tell the truth.

He gets so nervous his hands start shaking. He needs protection, he needs not to feel so bad.

—I am. —He tries to sound honest, but he doesn't succeed.

—I know what you have. I saw it. —His eyes start to fill with tears. How can he be trying to disguise it? —I see it in you.

—I have nothing, sir. —His voice rises a little, in panic.

—Don't you dare lie in the Lord's house. —He begins to sob as the priest's voice also rises. —Confess.

—I don't-

—Confess now.

He's about to start crying hard and really, really, really confess. However, a fierce wind blows inside the church, and all the candles go out. They are left in the dark except for the windows near the ceiling. The cold begins to be present, the hairs on his neck stand up as he tries to watch from the wooden checkered door that won't let him out.

—What are you doing?

Harry approaches his face to the door, and is startled as he sees a tall figure covered with a black cape on the bench where he previously sat during mass. His back hits the closet and he begins to breathe fast.

—What? What's going on?

—Stay here, and don't come out until I tell you to.

—What? No. It's not possible. This house is blessed. —He shakes his head quickly, also sticking to the closet.

—P-please stay here.

Harry opens the door slowly hearing how this one squeaks. He shakes like a leaf in the wind, without removing his huge green eyes from the tall, terrifying figure that remains as if it were a statue. He doesn't stop approaching, and that's when the supposed Death stands up, causing him to stop. His heart beats too fast, his head hurts slightly.

—Y-you came for me? —The figure slowly denies before raising its exaggeratedly long arm, pointing a thin, pale index finger towards the closet. The cold increases in his body. —Why? —It doesn't answer. Harry shakes his head in denial. —I-if you take him... everything will be t-too obvious.

Death continues in silence, and the curly boy startles as it points to the closet again, only more abruptly, impatient to take what belongs to him.

—They're gonna think I killed him, and everything's gonna get worse. Do you want... Louis to be mad? —Finally Death lowers its arm, it remains still for a few seconds and unexpectedly walks towards the confessional. Harry quickly stands in front, scared to death. —No! You're not taking him. —And firm, he decided for something he didn't think he'd regret. —I-I won't allow it. I won't let you.

That's when the hands of that thing go up to the hood of the cape and lower it slowly. A bald, pale, skeleton-like man stares at him. The most intriguing and bizarre thing about it is that it has Harry's eyes. When his eyes meet the fake ones, adrenaline travels through his body. Cracked images are present in his head, happy moments, moments of pain. They are few, but they are important. He feels as if his heart is taken with a fist and squeezed tightly. He can't breathe and feels his head flying in a thousand pieces, but he knows that he is still normal because he can continue to witness all that.

He blinks, and the candles light themselves again. There's nothing in front of him, just dark smoke that when he breathes it in suddenly, he wobbles and falls backwards. He doesn't faint, but he's a little out of it.

_ He's not the same. _

The priest leaves the confessional quickly, and doesn't mind the child's orders. He approaches the latter and kneels, shaking him.

—Harry? —When he sees him so gone, he shakes him again, desperate, terrified. He still couldn't believe that what he saw was real. —Harry! I'll get your parents. Yes, I will. —The man is about to stand, but Harry pulls his arm quickly and abruptly, caring little if he hurts him. —H-Harry?

He sits slowly with the help of the priest, who remains in shock. His hands are tingly, the uneasiness is more present than ever and he feels... he feels....

Almost nothing.

—I’m... —His voice shakes, his eyes are full of tears, but no matter how hard he tries, he can't cry. He looks up and looks at the older man's eyes, though he doesn't really do it. —...I’m okay. I-I’m okay.

—Let me call your parents. —He begs.

—Please don't say anything. —They're staring at each other again and Harry is frowning a little, not sure how to react. What happened? —You owe me one, you owe me. You know it.

He shakes his head slowly. —I can't tell people that something that isn't God's came in here. This... This never happened, okay?

Harry nods slowly, agreeing as he brings a hand to his chest. His heartbeat is slow, he feels that something is missing inside him and he isn't sure if he can stand up, but he knows he can't get up on his own.

—I need... —He sobs dry, but it doesn't relieve him. What's going on?. —...someone to get me up. Can you?

—Yes. Yes, of course. —The older man quickly stands up, bends over and takes Harry from behind, under his arms. It's not difficult for him to lift him, as he is very light and small. —Can you walk?

—Yes.

Harry starts walking at a slow pace and with his gaze staring blankly forward, hearing a "Take care" of the person whose life he saved.

There was nowhere to take care of oneself, there was no salvation and...

**Damn, Louis would be so angry when he saw him.**


	13. X. "Loving The Devil Hurts"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a moodboard for this fic: https://pin.it/i44nhzewsqkqiw

Could it be that death extracted the little desire he had to live? Could it be that he used to have a desire to live before the pain in his chest arose, and now he only felt that he had never wanted to breathe?

After leaving church, his family pretended not to notice he was being weird. Anne asked a couple of times if he was alright because her son seemed to be having serious trouble walking, but since the reunion with his family brainwashed her - _although what they thought was true, Harry had the devil with him_ \- she didn't want to get too close. She was going to follow everything as planned, without ruining anything.

It was too literal for him to come home, walk down the steps and go to sleep. He didn't even know when he fell asleep. The uneasiness was very strong, the pain in his chest too noticeable. He wondered if he was dying. He prayed that he was so that he would never feel this emptiness.

He woke up the next day and didn't know how long he had been looking at the ceiling, breathing heavily, weakly. Louis hadn't come back, and that sunk him deeper. He tried to keep in his head that he wasn't going to fall, he loved Louis. And he didn't want to die alone. He didn't feel as bad as the day before, at least he could stand, as long as he was leaning on something.

The day went as if nothing had happened, and no one but his sister asked him what was wrong. He could even hear his mother shushing her and continuing to pretend that everything was okay. He would tell Louis, if he didn't kill him.

He went to high school and dressed in a big gray coat with black buttons. The cold pierced his bones, even in autumn. One day ago he was in shorts, and now he was shivering, his lips purple and skin pale. Luckily Fionn hadn't been there that day, and he could avoid all sorts of unanswered questions.

He returned home in his father's car with his mother a couple of hours later. He hadn't had a snack all day because the first thing he had drunk - _a box of orange juice, since he wasn't in the mood for breakfast_ \- was now in the toilet. He had vomited it immediately and understood, apparently his body rejected anything that made him feel good.

Once he arrived, he didn't even greet his aunt and uncle, who were drinking tea in the living room. He noticed that his father was about to scold him for being rude, but he retreated instantly because he remembered the words of the Devil. He had to be very cautious.

Finally he walked down the steps carefully, holding on to the railing and opening the door to his room, turning on the light and turning to close the door with a lock. He didn't want to see anyone. He sighed and turned, his heart flipping as he noticed the Devil a few inches away, at the other end of the room, to be exact.

He looked different.

His eyes were wide and red, his pupils very dilated, his jaw tense and his fists clenched as he kept lowering Harry with his gaze. The latter froze when he saw him like that because, come on, he was so stupid not to have thought about what the Devil would look like angry. Did he think he would be the precious Louis? The one who had held him in his arms while making love to him? The one who relieved his tears with precious words? No.

Silence reigned in the room for a few long seconds. Harry wasn't going to talk, it would be too disrespectful.

—...What did you do?

Would anyone believe him if he confirmed that he never had the fear that everyone has of Louis? If he swore that, in spite of being the Devil, he never saw how horrible, terrifying and cruel he was? Could it be that he was so in love? The Devil's voice had come out so low, hoarse and quiet that it was too chilling. He felt like crying, but with every impulse he wanted to give to sob, it seemed like nothing was coming out of his chest. Even his eyes, blurred with tears, wouldn't let go of a single one.

He couldn't cry anymore.

He tried to swallow forcefully and, in an act of desperation, he wanted to flee. He needed to cool off. _A bath, yes._

He hurried to the bathroom, his legs trembling, and jumped in his place when the door closed abruptly. He shrank before turning to see Louis, but Louis appeared in front of his face, causing him to back up and hit his back against the wood of the door.

A faint chuckle in the middle of an exhalation escapes the Devil’s lips —Are you trying to get away from me? —His breathing was so strong that a painting fell to the ground, and the others shook slightly. —From me? The only one who protected you.

—I-I'm not trying to get away from you. —Harry stutters, raising his face and staring into Louis' eyes, begging him to believe him. He tried, but he was really scared.

The Devil's eyebrows rise, faking surprise. He doesn't like this Louis, this Louis is mean and sarcastic, and he doesn't understand. —No? And what are you trying to do by going to another room? —He approaches the child's face abruptly and sniffs a little before moving away. —You smell different. You look different. What.did.you.do?

—Lou...

The abrupt and deep breath Louis takes makes him stick more against the door, frightened while the little pout on his lower lip becomes very visible. —To who the fuck did you give part of your soul? —His thoughts became real. —You and I had a deal.

_Oh._

_The way he said it, so..._

**_“You and I had a deal.”_ ** Just a deal.

No love, nothing to fill his chest or fulfill his wish. Harry wondered if anyone had really felt their heart brake. The heavy feeling in the stomach, hands getting cold, stitches in the chest and hope shattering. Even the thoughts about the person who breaks it change, and not because you think he is a bastard, a jerk. Just... everything becomes distant.

He had no air. Louis had slipped through his fingers, and now he was nothing.

How could he be so dumb to believe he loved him? He repeated it to himself thousands of times. The Devil is a liar. The Devil is a liar.

_The Devil is a liar._

**_“—I could make no one hurt you again... ever.”_ **

_The Devil is a liar._

**_“—Louis, I think I'm becoming bad._ **

**_—Impossible, I still smell purity in you._ **

**_—Even though I invoked the Devil?_ **

**_—That wasn't an act of malice. It was an act of desperation in the face of others' evil. Many wouldn't understand._ **

**_—No one would understand._ **

**_—I understand.”_ **

_It's so painful._

**_“A part of me loves to see you lose your life little by little. But another part of me makes every effort, even to be funny, to keep you smiling. It's never happened to me before.”_ **

_Liar._

Inexpressibly he turns around and opens the bathroom door, closing it quickly behind him. He knew Louis could just show up inside but, oh, he didn't want to see him. He couldn't. He struggled so hard to breathe as he leaned shakily on the tub and began to fill it with cold and hot water, trying to find the perfect temperature for his body. He couldn't even cry, he felt like he was about to collapse.

He simply takes off his quickers, and a chill travels down his spine as he feels someone standing behind him watching him.

—You didn't fulfill what we promised.

Harry denies slowly, taking air through his mouth and trying to stop seeing the black dots that appeared through his sight. —Neither did you. —He whispers, suffocated. He can't take off his clothes, he has no strength. —Y-you said I wanted someone to love me honestly.

—You have it.

—Liar. —He can't cry so he laughs half-heartedly, closing his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. Everything is so dark. —You told me you were a liar and you had no feelings. It's true. You haven't fulfilled anything because you never loved me.

He can swear to feel Louis' anger in his own chest, but he had to say it. Either way, these could be his last minutes. He was barely standing, he assumed it was despair that kept him awake and somewhat sane.

—You dare judge what I think or feel? —Harry ignores him when he feels desperate for air and for cooling off, for feeling good. He quickly lifts his legs and gets into the bathtub, but he doesn't get to sit down because Louis grabs his arm, turning him and placing him in front of him. —Stop running away and answer me. —He raised his voice a little and looked a little lost as soon as he saw the expression of tiredness on his favorite boy.

—Louis... —Harry softly said, as if all the anger and pain had passed. He brought both hands to the Devil's chest, holding on. He could no longer go on. It was time to say goodbye. He took a deep breath, which wasn't good. —All I-I've wanted since I knew you're real was to have you around. I... I would never walk away from you. —He slowly shakes his head as he rests his cheek on Louis' warm chest, unable to keep his eyes open. —It doesn't matter if this is just a deal for you, or if you're going to kill me in the most ruthless way. Use me if you want, it doesn't matter. I-I... would never walk away from you. I love you.

The Devil wraps his arms around Harry's waist when Harry relaxes his legs completely, almost unconsciously. How could this sweet child live so much misfortune? How could an angel like Harry love someone like him? The Devil himself.

How could the Devil be so foolish to fall in love with the boy? He didn't know how to say it, he didn't know how to prove it because he was a demon. And nothing good came from them. They just touch, destroy, hurt and are where they shouldn't be.

—...Harry. —He called, moving him a little in his arms, but he didn't answer. Louis assumed that he had already fainted, and with desperation in his chest he carried the curly boy better in his arms and entered the bathtub. He sat down, leaning against the edge and Harry's small icy body on top of him.

He held the child's waist with one arm and with his free hand took the boy's chin, lifting it and putting it to the height of his mouth. He wet his face and patted his cheek.

—Open your eyes, hey.. —He slapped a little harder and Harry's eyes opened just a little, even though he couldn't breathe so well. —Look at me. Look at me, boy.

Louis stares at him as unintelligible words slowly come out of his lips. Harry can't take his eyes off the Devil and he doesn't want to. He feels his cheeks begin to warm up like his body, doesn't feel his lips frozen and the air flows to his chest again, forcing him to take a deep breath while his heartbeat speeds up. He can keep his eyes wide open, everything doesn't look so dark and the uneasiness is gone, but not quite because he is with the Devil.

In shock and overwhelmed by all he had previously felt, he simply stared at Louis, his eyes filling with tears and (to his great relief) some falling down his cheeks.

—W-what did you do?

—You’re not dying today. —He simply replied, with determination.

Harry's sobs begin small, silent and become louder, he covers his face and trembles, realising that he really was going to die. It was horrible, it wasn't peaceful at all, and there was no light. Not for him. The Devil hugged him against his chest, letting the boy rest on his body. He embraced him with the need to feel him in his arms, to calm down. Each sob of his boy was like a dagger in his chest, because he could feel the pain of his pure soul in a physical way. However, he endured it.

—You told me you love me.

Harry hiccuped, sipping his nose and nodding. —Y-yes. —He uttered, and the sobbing continued louder. He needed to relieve himself, stop feeling so rejected, so vulnerable.

Louis didn't answer, he just left soft kisses on the skin of his favorite boy's neck and hugged him by the waist, looking for any way to make him feel good. He knew how, but he just... couldn't.

Because if he told Harry what he expected... everything was going to get so, so complicated.

Loving him hurt.


	14. XI. "Halloween"

The next five days were quiet, so quiet it was scary. Harry was feeling much better, and all because of the arrangement they had made.

As they snuggled in his bed, both naked and sweaty, they shared important words among wet kisses.

Since the curly boy had told him that his family seemed to be up to something, the Devil decided that, not only for that but for Harry's recovery, he would leave and just return to his side at night, at least for four days until his favorite boy recovered.

They had also commented on the fact that, although Harry had a hard time doing so, he should no longer give his life for anyone. Louis told him that he had sent Death to kill the man so that he wouldn't invaded him with questions, but the curly boy, in the middle of a small argument, tried to make him understand that they shouldn't kill every person who bothered him because that would be too suspicious, and although in the world where Louis was king it was normal, from where Harry was it was something terrible. He also expressed the guilt he felt and cried a little as he remembered his cousin, schoolmates, and the harm he did to his father. The Devil just kept saying the same thing.

**_"My favorite boy, why do you cry for people who don't deserve to breathe this world's air? If they're burning in hell, it's for a reason. No one touches you."_ **

For the rest of the night Louis dried the curly boy's tears with his fingers full of gold rings and kissed him for hours, looking to make him feel better. If his faithful followers of hell saw what it was like for the Devil to leave for " _ important matters, _ " they would die of envy.

His family noticed the great change in Harry, and as people who are poorly informed and have no idea of anything, they told him their stupid plan. Tie him to his bed and give him an exorcism. Finally, they congratulated him on his recovery, gave him their blessing, and Harry didn't even feel ticklish about it because Louis was coming back at night.

On the twenty-ninth of October, in their institute they organized for each pupil who had the permission of his parents a project called " _ Anti-cult _ ". Basically, it was handing out leaflets which gave bad information about Halloween, putting in other people's heads how satanic it was and everything it meant.

Unfortunately Fionn and Harry had the permit, and the next day they were handing out leaflets in the corner of the city park. Everyone was very nice and took them, and even stayed when the teenagers reluctantly explained the whole thing to them. The thing is that they were all faithful followers of God, but that wasn't the huge problem. The huge problem was that they faithfully followed the Bible, which had its good things, but also its bad things, and humans seemed to exaggerate and penalize to death anyone who was against it.

—It’s unfair. —Fionn snorted, noticing that no one was passing by and approaching a trash can, throwing five flyers in and quickly returning to Harry's side.

—Fionn! —He scolded, and blushed because, come on, he was no one to tell others what was wrong. He was doing what was considered the worst thing in the world.

—Okay, I'm sorry. —He threw one more and Harry raised both eyebrows. The brunette rolled his eyes at the little boy's interrogation. —It's just... Halloween is great, mate. It's so cool because you dress up and scare people, and scaring is fun.

Harry wrinkles his nose. —I don't have fun when people scare me. —He says, and gives a leaflet to a lady who passes in front of him, giving her a shy little smile.

Fionn rolls his eyes again. —That's because you've always been the one who's scared. Have you ever scared someone?

He immediately remembered the moment when he frightened his cousins - _ or rather Louis _ \- by turning over all the crucifixes and slowly shook his head. —Scaring is bad, Fi. —He disagreed.

Both boys began to walk to a park bench, still talking.

—It's bad when it's done with malice. —Fionn argues. Both sit down and Harry sighs, more relaxed. His legs hurt, he's not fully recovered. Fionn, on the other hand, straightens up and looks at the curly boy with a little smile. His crooked teeth noticeable, they look beautiful. —On Halloween, everything is innocent fun. You can wear a costume, eat lots of candy...

—Candy? —Harry quickly says, looking at Fionn with a slight gleam in his green eyes. The other boy smiled malevolently. He caught the attention of the adorable Styles.

He nodded quickly. —Lots. —He said. Harry seemed gawking for a few seconds, but then shook his head, lowering his gaze and sorting the leaflets in his hands. Fionn sighed, exhausted from wanting to convince someone like his faithful little friend. —Come on, Harry. Do you really believe what these leaflets say? —He took one and looked for something really ridiculous to read aloud but, my God, everything was ridiculous. —“ _ The word Halloween comes from the cursed language which means Follow the True King. The way to invoke the Lord of Darkness is to wear servants' costumes, create bad vibes and bad feelings. Follow God!”  _ —He looks at Harry again, putting on his worst face. —Seriously?

Obviously the curly boy knows it's not true, but he looks at the brochures again before he looks at Fionn. —Well, I don't know. The part where it says that black kittens are kidnapped by witches seems pretty credible to me.

Lots of black kittens had disappeared, although they could also be those of the church, since they believed that the animal was of bad luck. Too pretentious, too involved in things that weren't that way.

—That may be true, but not everyone who celebrates Halloween takes the kittens. And Halloween doesn't come from a cursed word! In fact, if someone from this cursed town took a book and did a little reading, they would know that it started in the nineteenth century and that they themselves, Catholics and Christians, celebrated before everyone else.

Harry merely said nothing in the face of the obvious irritation of his friend, who leaned back against the back of that bench and sighed, looking around as he huddled more in his coat.

—You don't believe in God, Fi?

—Yes, I believe in God. —He quickly responded, calmer but still looking ahead with remarkable irritability. —But I don't think God's going to kill me for doing something I enjoy, without hurting anyone.

The curly boy nodded slowly and looked away, begging not to have given Fionn an idea because, oh, he had put his "A bulb lit over my head" face.

—What do you say we dress up and go out and get some candy? —He quickly said. Damn it!

—Oh, no. —The boy got up from the bench walking to the same place where he was before and being chased by his friend. —No, no, no. They're gonna kill me if I do it.

Yes, they were probably going to kill him if they found out, and it would ruin his perfect plan of "Everything is fine with me, I have nothing in me, I am a creature of light". Besides, the night was the only time he could stay with Louis, and the night before he had been so exhausted that he had fallen asleep too fast, without having time for a kissing session with the Devil. He had been thinking all day about how wonderful it would be to get home and fall into Louis' arms, be kissed and held, just as he loved it.

—They won't find out! —The brunette begged. —We'll tell them that... uhm... A Halloween protest? It'll be fun! —He tried to encourage Harry, who continued to hand out flyers to people passing by. Fionn did the same. —We can be scary at least one night.

—I... —Doubt ate his brain. It sounded so fun but... he had to consult Louis. —...I don’t know.

—Candy, Harry. Candy.

The named boy laughed shyly, blushing when he noticed that his friend already knew one of his weaknesses. He shook his head slowly before sighing and handing over the last flyer. The conversation ended until Fionn handed over his last flyer as well, and the two were walking through the park to their homes.

—It would... it would be fun. —Harry says. Fionn seems to be about to explode with excitement, but the curly boy quickly lifts his index finger, pointing..—But I'll confirm my answer tomorrow in high school.

—I'm going to talk to a close friend so he can take us where I plan to go. God, I'm so happy! We'll have candy and I'll make some good costumes for us. We'll be ghosts! —he exclaimed, blinded by the happiness of finally doing something he liked. That town was like a prison. —My father believes everything I tell him, so I'll tell him to tell your parents what we are going to supposedly do. Just relax, okay? Everything will be fine. Also... You had to do something bad eventually, don't you think?

Harry smiles sideways shyly, causing a single dimple to appear on his cheek.

_ You have no idea. _

When Harry arrived home he was surprised by how everyone, even his father, greeted him. The boy returned the greeting and looked at the clock, noticing that it was only six o'clock in the afternoon. Louis wouldn't be around until eight or nine, so he took the opportunity to have a delicious snack, tea with lemon and toast with cherry jam. Gemma wasn't at home, so he sat on an individual sofa in the living room, eating quietly while his parents talked on the sofa opposite.

—Harry, honey. How was school? Did you hand out the flyers? —Harry nodded, his mouth full. —Everything alright, sweetie? Are you alright? You look good.

Once he swallowed his food he smiled shyly at his mother, blushed. —Oh, thanks, mommy. You look beautiful, too. Everything is alright. —He nodded before taking a final sip of his tea and standing, taking the tray with his things. —I'm gonna clean this up and then I'm gonna take a bath.

—Alright, my darling. Leave the cup on the counter, I'll wash it. Don't forget to brush your teeth, love.

—I will.

Although his mother had told him not to wash his cup, he did it anyway. He cleaned the crumbs from the living room table and, not without first excusing himself, headed for the door leading to the basement. He walked down the stairs, opened the door to his room, and bolted because he was going to take an honorable bath until his boyf... Well, until Louis came back. 

Once in the bathroom he filled the tub with warm water and quickly took off his clothes, getting in and relaxing his body once he was under the water. He took the opportunity to relax more by submerging for a few seconds, with his eyes closed and body still. Doing so reminded him of the overwhelming sensation when Louis' body slowly led him to unconsciousness and he woke up with that annoying beeping in his left ear that, fortunately, he no longer had the pleasure of hearing.

He returned to the surface when his lungs burned in search of air and rubbed soap in every place of his body. Although he missed Louis and felt the need to feel him close at all times, he had to admit he was much better this way. He could breathe, there wasn't so much uneasiness, and the sun hit his skin. When he was missing a large part of his soul, although some things are very blurred in his memory, he could swear to be able to see the sun fixedly without having to squint or cover his eyes. He could see it as if he were wearing dark glasses, and he was surprised.

He shook his head slowly, washing his curls with shampoo. He had to forget the sensations of when he was missing a large part of his soul, because panic returned. He sighed and focused on thinking how fun but risky it would be to go with Fionn wherever he said on Halloween. On second thought, though, he was pretty sure Louis wouldn't accept that.

_ And he planned to obey him like the good boy he was. _

He finished by conditioning his curls and rinsing them. He stood up and covered his entire body with a huge towel, not before getting out of the tub. He looked smaller than usual with that towel and his wet curls stuck to his face. He removed the plug from the bathtub and dried quickly, putting on his underwear and heading for the room.

He left the towel in the laundry basket after drying his curls and arranged them to one side before going to the wardrobe where he kept all his clothes. He took some socks, his sleeping shorts with pretty brown bears on it, and a long-sleeved white t-shirt. He started by putting on his socks and shirt, but when he was about to put on his shorts the uneasiness slowly settled in his stomach and he felt a shiver down his spine. Soon, arms wrapped around his waist and a mouth stuck to his neck, kissing there and causing his eyes to close.

—Stay just like that. —Louis said, referring to the boy's clothing. He turned him in his arms, taking him by the waist, leaning over to reach Harry's lips. —My favorite boy.

—Lou. —The youngest blinked slowly, stunned with the perfection in front of his face. —I missed you. —he whispered, trying not to look away in embarrassment, making his red cheeks obvious.

The Devil, with that flirtatious smirk, bowed and caught the lips of the boy in a hungry but slow kiss, being reciprocated with surprise at first. A small sigh escaped the small nose of the curly boy, who was on his tiptoes and holding on with his arms around the Devil's neck.

—And I you. —the latter replied.

Wait a minute... **What?**

**How?**

**When?**

That unexpected response caused Harry to stop kissing him and open his huge green eyes, impressed, unbelieving.

—...What did you say?

Louis looks at him for a few seconds, squinting slightly and then raising both eyebrows. —I missed you too. —He repeated, stubbornly.

Harry's cheeks were about to explode from how flushed he was. —S… S-seriously? Me? I...

The Devil rolls the eyes before bringing the child closer and kissing him slowly and deeply. The latter, too happy for that display of affection he didn't even ask for, let himself be coddled and responded to the exquisite kiss.

They stayed that way for a few minutes before Louis' arms moved under the curly boy's butt and lifted him up, carrying him. His lips don't detach even for a second as the Devil moves toward the bed and gently places the child on the mattress, moving the blankets down. They separate and Louis begins to undress as the curly boy looks at him, noticing that when the entity takes off his pants there is nothing to cover what was under there.

Louis returns to bed, lying beside the boy and wrapping him in his arms, beginning to kiss his neck slowly.

—For my sake, kid... I was begging to feel your skin. —He licked a portion of it, causing Harry to sigh audibly and tilt his head. Louis held his chin with one hand to keep him still and began to kiss his neck, brushing with his teeth, running his tongue and sucking on portions of skin.

Harry clung to Louis, at his mercy. The Devil could do whatever he wanted with him, he would never say no.

—Lou... Wait. I have to tell you two things, just two little things and that's it. —He asked, begging not to disrespect him. The king of darkness snarled before he pulled away a little and climbed over the small body of his favorite boy.

—I hope it's important. —He said as he carried his hands toward the curly's shirt, slowly lifting it up and kissing his belly.

—Y-yes. Fionn wants me to go with him to a Halloween party, but I don't want to disrespect you. Do you think I should go? Because if you don't, there's no problem and you know it.

—Go. I'll see you there. —He spoke against Harry's torso skin, leaving the shirt lifted up, beginning to suck his nipples. The child's mouth parted, unable to avoid stirring a little. —Anything else?

Despite the fact that the curly boy was gawking at what Louis was doing to him, he opened his eyes and brought his little hands to the Devil's warm shoulders.

—Louis, this is more important. —He warned, and the man reluctantly stopped sucking his boy's nipples, placing his face close to the other to pay attention. —My father... said hello to me today.

Louis didn't seem a bit surprised, as if he already knew that Des Styles would try to get close again when he didn't suspect Harry.

—You want me to kill him? —Harry shakes his head quickly, startled and tensing a little at the abruptness of his words. —Okay. Here's what you're going to do, you'll talk to him, and when he tries something you'll call me. Then I'll take care of it.

Harry nodded, not very sure while returning the slow kiss. His arms encircled the devil's neck, who brought his hands full of rings to his boy's underwear, slowly lowering it. He caressed his thighs and ass as his tongue entered the boy's mouth, taking him by surprise and stealing a choppy, barely audible groan.

He rubbed their erections and the curly boy quickly began to sweat and breathe agitatedly, invaded by the sensations that flowed slowly throughout his body. Louis' eyes searched for his, and Harry already understood that it was to take away his pain, so he didn't look away, losing himself in the blue of his eyes, and also in the red.

The archangel's hands held the child's hips before entering him, slowly at first, looking for a frown on the face of his favorite boy but not finding it, finally entering more quickly. He began to move in a slow motion before taking his hands to Harry's wrists and nailing them to the pillow at the sides of his head.

Both of them continued to stare into each other's eyes, the curly boy releasing soft sighs and opening his short, thin legs wider. It was when his eyes closed due to the pleasure that Louis' lips went behind his ear, kissing there and making him moan. He began to speak again in that soft and unintelligible language while speeding up his movements, repeatedly brushing against the boy's sweet spot.

—U-uhm, Louis... —He half-opened his lips when the swaying turned into hard, quick thrusting. The tip of Louis's member pounded hard at his sweet spot, making him gasp for air, moaning choppily but audibly as he heard the Devil's rapid breaths and grunts.

His pelvis tightened again and again, pleasure flowed faster through his body and blinded his mind, turning him into someone who only knew how to groan, move his hips and beg for more.

—M-more... faster. —He pleaded, pressing the tips of his little fingers on the skin of the back of the entity who, after hearing what his boy said, accelerated the abrupt and strong thrusts, hitting his sweet spot and causing him to start moaning loudly.

—Fuck, kid. —He bit the skin of the child's neck gently, trying to bring him closer to the orgasm. He just couldn't, Harry was going to kill him someday.

It took a couple of more thrusts for the curly boy to climax, curling his toes, arching his back and panting Louis' name while staining their torso with his essence. Seconds later he felt the Devil coming inside him, filling him. He shuddered and curled up against the warm body of the entity, exhausted and breathing heavily.

They shared kisses for several minutes, there was nothing left to talk about and Louis, he simply wanted to appreciate the boy's face. He stroked his soft cheek slowly, rubbing his thumb against the mole on the cheek of his favorite boy. He kissed him again, unable to resist.

Everything was going so well... it was even scary.

Fionn had made it clear to his father that he planned to go with Harry and another friend to a protest against Halloween and sects to talk about God. His father believed him and finally decided to tell Anne Styles who, proud of her son, congratulated him and gladly gave him permission.

Whitehead had arranged to wear a costume together with Harry -  _ he would choose the costume _ \- and go to a party that had been recommended to him by the friend with whom they would go -  _ which, by the way, was Liam Payne _ \- who was almost out of town, in old Cowell's haunted house -  _ well, Harry didn't know that _ \- and have fun. Lots. He was going to get candy for the curly boy, dance with Father William's rebellious daughter and scare others.

While Liam was in charge of buying refreshments and junk food for the trip at a gas station, Harry and Fionn were in the empty gas station bathroom. Both simply stood in front of the huge mirror, watching their ridiculous reflections under a sheet stained with red paint and holes in the eye area so as not to block their views.

A sigh came from the tallest of the two. —We look so terrifying, Harry. —He said, and it looked a little funny not noticing when he spoke.

Literally, they both looked the same.

Harry didn't speak for a few seconds, and over the sheet it was noticeable that he was tilting his head.

—Uhm, yeah.

—Don't you think so? Don't you think we look pretty scary?

—Uhm... —He doesn't want to disappoint his friend, who had taken the time to prepare everything in detail. —...Oh, yeah. Definitely.

—Cool, follow me. —He said, looking for the hand of the shortest and taking him to the exit of the bathroom. Both collided with a couple of adults, who were a little startled. —BOOOOOOO!

The man with the weird hairstyle raised both eyebrows. —What are you? Brats with sheets?

—Shut up, we're ghosts. —Fionn replied, completely indignant and pulling at Harry's hand, both heading for the car.

Liam was coming out of the store with three cans of Coca Cola and a big packet of chips. He was dressed casually, but he had painted his face like a skeleton and his hair was combed backwards. He raised both eyebrows when he saw the children, not knowing what to say.

Fionn raised his arms in indignation and Liam immediately recognized the gesture, exaggeratingly bringing one hand to his chest.

—Oh, I'm so sorry. You scared me, and I was a little out of it. —He lied.

Fionn seemed content with that and didn't get into the co-pilot seat without saying "Ha, loser".

Harry climbed into the backseat and removed the sheet from his body, finding Louis by his side and trying not to startle. He had to get used to the fact that Louis could appear only for him. He sat close to him, trying to dissimulate, and allowed him to caress his hand.

—Liam? —Harry called, getting just a mumble from this one. —Where are we going?

The two boys in the front seat look sideways before Fionn turns and watches Harry through the sheet. Even the way he's looking through the holes looks like he wants to apologize.

—There's a party at old Cowell's house. —He says slowly, barely audible.

Harry's eyes widened.  _ Oh, no _ . —Old Cowell's house?! —He exclaimed, frightened. That old man had been his nightmare as a child!

—Yeah! —Fionn looks excited.

—It's haunted!

—I know! —He continues enthusiastically. —And there'll be a lot of people. Boys like me, and boys like you, though... Well, I've never met anyone like you. Almost everyone knows what they want.

Louis laughs almost silently and a blush soon reaches the cheeks of the curly boy. Liam continues to drive in silence as he eats his chips.

—I don't? —Harry responds, calmly and taking his gaze to the window, observing the dark and empty road.

—No. You know that what we do is okay, but you're too fuck- too absorbed by the system. —He quickly corrects himself, turning his eyes to the front.

Again the devil's laughter becomes audible and Harry cannot help but smile shyly, lowering his gaze and receiving a caress in his left hand.

_ Oh, Louis. _


	15. XII. "Midnight Confessions"

For over thirty years, parents terrorized their children with the famous story of Reinold Cowell. According to everyone, he used to be a sorcerer who lived almost on the outskirts of Holmes Chapel. He became a faithful servant of the Devil when mean children frequently went to his house and threw stones at it, breaking windows and destroying his home.

There had been times when he had been physically hurt, and that house he had lived in used to be well cared for because his deceased wife had built it with him. It was the only memory he had of her.

Determined and blinded by the pain of having lost the love of his life, Reinold decided to invoke the higher demons, selling his soul to their leader to protect him from those children.

The last time the children went to throw stones, not only were they disturbed by all the demons in humiliating and painful ways -  _ breaking their fingers out of nowhere and feeling sharp nails burying themselves in their feet _ \- but the famous musician from hell, Giussepe Tartini, only climbed up to play the violin's sharpest string in an abrupt and irritating way. That sound blew up the children's heads one by one, and soon their bodies appeared on the doors of each parent's house.

Reinold Cowell was hung in his own living room, and the last thing he said before he died was:  _ "Here I am dying unjustly, as most people do. I don't blame those children, I now see before me the monsters in which they were reflected." _

Harry's entire childhood was based on jokes about that man, and even the few times he had almost made it out of town with his family he cried and cried out for a safe return home. He couldn't even think of a death or someone surrounded by demons.

Ironic, because he was in love with the Devil, and now death was normal for him, and quite frequent.

The house was huge and it looked old. He was pretty sure the cobwebs were real. However, the Halloween décor helped, and the crowd inside seemed to be having fun as they danced to Elvis Presley's  **"Rock in jail"** thanks to the jukebox in the corner.

There was a bar at the other end of the room, and it was also full. The light of the place was out, and the candles of the huge candlestick on the ceiling illuminated the place dimly. In the kitchen there were people sitting around what appeared to be a tablet with strange letters. Harry would probably be scared to death if he had entered the house before meeting Louis, but he wasn't afraid. It was completely normal for him.

Liam watched with a slight smile as Fionn removed his sheet and watched with indignation the terrifying costumes of everyone. How couldn't he notice that he and Harry looked ridiculous! Immediately he noticed the curly boy, who was still hiding under the sheet and seemed to be bobbing his head at the sound of the music.

—Oh, fuck. Can you repeat what I said about us in front of the mirror? —Harry watches him for a few seconds, completely lost to the neutral way Fionn is talking to him.

—Oh. You said,  _ "We look so terrifying, Harry." _

—Why didn't you hit me when I said that?

Liam laughed, shook his head and put his hands behind both boys' backs. —Let's have a drink and calm down. —He said, heading with them toward the bar, which was full but served quite quickly.

Harry took the sheet off his body once they reached it and tied it around his neck, like a superhero. Fionn had left it somewhere, his hair up, disheveled and eyes painted black.

—Fionn? —Liam asked, speaking clearly as he was about to be served by the man on the other side of the bar.

—A beer.

—Harry?

—Oh. Uhm, water.

Liam's eyebrows rise. —Water?

—Or juice. Juice is fine. —Harry quickly corrects himself, causing Fionn to burst out laughing.

—Juice?! —He quickly shakes his head while Harry wrinkles his nose, embarrassed. Was there something wrong with drinking juice? Didn't they sell it? How terrible. —Order a beer for him.

—I'm not drinking that. —The curly boy quickly defended himself, shooking his head in disapproval.

—They don't sell juice, Harry.

—I didn’t know that…

—I know. I'm sorry, it's just-

—Excuse me? I heard your friend wanted juice. I have some.

Harry turns to the recognizable voice that comes from the tall guy next to Fionn and stares at him. He blinks, stunned to notice how Louis interacts with his high school friend. He can't hide his shock and goes from looking at Fionn to looking at the Devil, and so on for a few seconds.

His friend, on the other hand, smiles and accepts the cup that Louis holds for him. —Thanks, mate. —He turns to look at the curly boy and holds out the cup, raising both eyebrows. —Look, Harry. This adult has got juice for you.

He blinks quickly, the boy takes the cup and blushes when Louis winks at him. —T-thank you.

He's obviously going to pretend he doesn't know him.

—You're welcome.

Fionn laughs as he looks at him from top to bottom, awakening a slight jealousy in the curly boy, who drinks the orange juice. It tastes freshly squeezed, but it's not surprising because Louis is the fucking Devil and he can do whatever he wants.

—What are you dressed as? Oh, wait. Wait. Let me guess. —He squints his eyes, thinking before nodding, confident. —Are you a... satanic?

—No. I'm the Devil.

Harry signals for him to stop, but Liam soon reaches his side with three cans of beer in his hands and observes lost at the conversation they are having with that guy.

Fionn frowns at Louis' answer. —The Devil has horns and tail, genius.

Harry's heart can't be beating any faster. He fears that that answer is too bold for the Devil, and that the Devil would think that someone was superior to him, which is rather bad. The curly boy looked so badly at Fionn that he kept his mouth shut and took a can of beer from Liam, drinking and saying nothing else.

—Guys, I'm gonna go talk to some friends over there for a few minutes. —The young Payne said, pointing at a group of people gathered in the corner of the room. —If anyone wants to leave, find the other one and we'll leave together.

Fionn and Harry agreed as they watched where Liam was going. Louis, on the other hand, kept his eyes on Harry.

—Harry. —His friend called, and when the curly looked at him he looked completely stunned, his gaze lost on the dance floor. —Do you mind if I disappear for a few minutes?

The youngest discovered that, among the crowd, Father William's daughter danced without taking her eyes and smile away from his friend.

—Oh, uhm…

—I'll stay with him. —Louis said quickly, causing Harry to look at him with relief.

It would be weird to be at a party with Louis.

Fionn handed Harry his can of beer and smiled joyfully at the Devil. —Thanks, Lucifer! —He looked at his friend again and patted him on the shoulder. —Harry, I won't move from this house, I promise. If you want to leave, you look for me and we'll leave.

He finally walked away, excited when he offered the priest's beautiful daughter to dance and she accepted without hesitation. Both went crazy while doing some very difficult rock moves, and soon everyone was surrounding them, encouraging the two teenagers to dance.

Harry couldn't help smiling shyly at the image in front of him, then taking his gaze to Louis, who didn't take his gaze away from him for anything in the world.

—Fionn Whitehead is a bad friend. —Louis said, causing Harry to stop smiling and his heart to start beating faster. The Devil's gaze went to the front and his expression remained neutral. —It's his duty as a friend to take care of you. He shouldn't have let you drink from the cup I gave you.

—I-Is there something wrong with the juice? —He stuttered. There was always that doubt in which he feared that, unexpectedly, Louis would take his soul in the cruelest way, when he least expected it or when he trusted him the most.

The archangel took his gaze back to Harry, analyzed him for a few seconds from top to bottom and simply said: —There are bad people here, and they are people who would offer you anything to make you sleep and get you in bed.

The boy's skin became paler at the thought. So it was okay to accept a drink from the Devil himself and it wasn't okay to accept it from a bad person?

Although Louis would never do anything to him...

Wouldn’t he?

—Can't they feel the uneasiness when you're around?

—No, only you sold me your soul here. There's a lot of good vibe to notice the void. —He says, and sighs before reaching out his hand to the curly's, which he accepted immediately. —Follow me.

The boy simply followed the entity, checking that he wasn't on Fionn and Liam's radar. Some people looked strangely at the clasped hands of two people of the same sex, but no one said anything or commented on it, which turned out to be good for Harry.

They walked through a dark hallway in which they had to dodge some couples kissing, and finally Louis opens a door at the end, entering with his boy. It was an old room with a perfectly tidy bed and a somewhat messy nightstand. The white walls had mildew, things written, and everything smelled damp. The atmosphere was terrible, but one could have a nice conversation without any disturbance.

The curly boy went to leave the two cans of beer and his glass of juice on the night table, observing the place in detail, analyzing it. It was creepy and very cold. He turned to see Louis, who immediately wrapped him in his arms and forced him to raise his gaze so that his foreheads touched. His cheeks blushed, unable to believe that the Devil healed his poor heart.

—You're weird. —He said, caressing his waist and gluing his lips to those of the boy, not moving them and forcing the latter to close his eyes. —What goes through the mind of my favorite boy?

—Oh, nothing. —Well, there was something. He was nervous about doing things like this: going to parties without permission, celebrating Halloween after handing out flyers against it... lately he was doing bad things. —I'm weird? —Unconsciously he put his little hands on the arms of the eldest, holding on to him.

—You're... bold.. —Harry's cheeks blushed even more, and he thanked the lack of light in that place, except for the one that came in through the broken window. —You lie, you sneak into a party, you mess with the Devil... Oh. You're a bad little boy. 

The boy's innocence prevented him from grasping the mischievous tone of voice that the archangel had used, and he nearly began to cry, making it obvious with a little pout that began to form on his lower lip.

—I know, I’m so-

His apologies are interrupted by the deep kiss Louis places on his lips, stroking, sucking and gently biting. A small sigh comes out of the curly's nose and his arms move around the tallest's neck as he reaffirmed the grip on his waist.

Their tongues soon made contact, causing sensations in both of them, and faint clicking sounds throughout the room. Louis walks forward and places Harry against the wall in a corner of the room.

Everything becomes warmer, more intimate. Soon the Devil was pressing the boy against the wall and caressing his thighs and ass. He caressed the milky skin under his shirt and enjoyed the sounds that came out of his favorite boy's mouth.

Minutes later they separated a little, both lips red and the urgent need to look closely at each other's eyes. Harry discovered peace, an ocean in those blue eyes, which he used to submerge for a few seconds and relax completely. He even liked the little red bit. He liked all of Louis.

He decided to say it. He decided to swallow his shyness, the humiliation he would receive if it weren't like that, the shame on his chest and his insecurity.

—Tell me the truth. —He whispered just as Louis decided to take him by the cheeks, lift his face and kiss his lips gently.

—What do you wanna know?

They continued kissing, again the Devil lowering his arms to the waist of the boy, who raised his own and held on to his neck. The need in the way their lips moved was inexplicable and very evident.

—T-tell me you don't want me dead, that you want me right here. —Neither of them separated from the kiss, and Louis licked the boy's lower lip, feeling the latter trembling in his arms. —If it's not like that, that's fine. But please don't... don't lie to me.

They pulled their faces away a bit so that they could look into each other's eyes. —Why shouldn't I lie to you? —Louis asked, and his expression showed the struggle within him.

—Because you aren't just the Devil to me. —Harry whispered, biting his lower lip then without blinking, admiring the eyes of the entity. —You are with others, but you're Louis with me. And I... I know Louis. I-I know when he lies, when he likes or dislikes something.

—Harry. —He holds him more possessively and the blue of his eyes becomes darker. He likes what he hears.

—Lou, I swear if it's not as I say you can continue us... —He swallowed forcefully at the knot in his throat and had to blink because of the tears filling his huge green eyes. —...using me as long as you want. I just want to know the truth.

The Devil says nothing as he tries to figure out how to react to the situation, but he lets out a sigh as soon as Harry fails to stop sobbing on an exhalation, closing his eyes as Louis' forehead again met that of the child. They remain silent, and Harry continues to sob and hiccup, tears falling down his cheeks, unable to bear the burden of loving someone, he believes, who cannot love.

—...I don't want you to die.

Harry's body trembles more intensely, forcing himself to stop the sobs and stay calm, sipping his red nose and clinging more to Louis to get closer. He needs affection, cuddles. He needs the Devil.

—I want you here with me. —The entity continues. —Not there.

—There?

—Where I come from. —He quickly says. His eyes are closed and his mouth rubs against that of his favorite boy. —And where you should be. It's no place for you, you're so... delicate. And small.

—Lou.

—I can't allow it. —He continues, and his hands full of rings tense. —So stop making me say things I shouldn't.

Harry blinked, perplexed, and not knowing how to react to those last words. Should he have been surprised because the Devil felt Harry was forcing him? That Harry had some kind of power over him? Did what he said confirm his doubts? Did Louis love him?

Without hesitation he left a shy, soft and very short kiss on the Devil's lips, his face burning before releasing a sigh. —Thanks…

And again Louis kisses him deeply in the darkness of that room.

When Harry leaves the room Louis follows him a little farther and both end up near the bar, where they previously were. Fionn is saying goodbye to Father William's daughter, and Liam is hugging the other boy, who struggles to hold him.

—Harry! —He sighs with relief as he sees the little one with the curls safe and sound, still accompanied by that man who claims to be disguised as the Devil. —Jesus Christ, you scared me. —Harry finds himself looking at Liam with a frown, worried. The brown-eyed one is on the verge of fainting, pale. —Oh, Liam's drunk. It's nothing. He's going to die in the back seat for a while, come on.

Harry turns to Louis, not knowing exactly what to do or say. The Devil smiles flirtatiously and gives him a nod. —It was a pleasure to meet you.

The curly boy nods frantically. —Oh. Y-yes. Likewise.— Why is he an expert at lying on some things, and disgusting on others?

He turns, but when he doesn't want to leave the entity behind, he looks again in the direction he was. However, he is no longer there, but when he turns again to walk towards the exit he can feel the steps on his heels.

They reach the car and Harry steps forward to open the door to the back seats while Fionn makes Liam vomit in some bushes near the house. Finally they put him inside, laying him on his side and closing the door. Both boys get on the front and sigh. The straight-haired guy sighs deeply before turning to Harry, who can't help but laugh shyly.

—You're all smooched up. —He comments when he notices the lipstick marks on his friend's lips, chin and cheeks.

He continues to watch Harry and cannot help smiling sideways, showing those somewhat crooked teeth that made him look extremely adorable.

—That guy was gawking at you.

The child frowns. —Who?

—The Devil without a tail or horns. He looked like he wanted to come at you and ruin you in the most precious way. —Finally he starts the car and accelerates, turning around to return to the town.

And Harry, with his body covered by the sheet he had used to be a ghost and looking out the window, really thinks about whether he's being ruined in the most precious way.


	16. XIII. "Internal Fire"

The three teenagers had spent the night in the home of one of them, Fionn Whitehead. For Harry, that was a waste of a night with Louis, since he couldn't be there. As soon as they arrived, after Liam puked a little more and drank a lot of water, the three of them went to sleep.

They woke up the next day when Fionn's alarm clock went off. It had been so loud and annoying that none of them wanted to talk as they got up. They dressed like the day before and went downstairs for breakfast. Fionn's father seemed very happy commenting on how beautiful the day was, the advantages of winter and how nice it would be when the snow fell in December. Harry's mood improved and he began to talk to his friend's father about the weather, but it decayed again when he mentioned to the curly boy the tragedy of the last cohabitation trip that the school made, he stayed mostly silent.

Liam didn't miss that.

Finally Harry and Liam decided to leave half an hour before entering school because they needed to put on their uniforms. Both boys went on different paths to their homes. The curly boy could feel the Devil's footsteps on his heels, and he was surprised that the Devil wasn't walking by his side. There was no one at that time in the morning, at least not in that area.

—Lou? —He received no response, only those steps behind him. He swallowed hard and immediately tensed up, believing that something was wrong. He hurried home, wanting to get there quickly so that he could go into his room and face what was happening.

Minutes later he arrived home and opened the front door, closing behind himself and about to run to his room, but stopped his steps when he saw his father watching him from the living room sofa, drinking a small cup of tea. The two watched each other for a few short seconds before Des raised both eyebrows and left the cup on the coffee table in front of him.

—Son, hello. —He said.

Harry didn't know exactly what to say. It was very strange to talk after Des tried to burn him with a cigarette, Harry gave him a heart attack by saying "Louis" and then he appeared to his father in the hospital.

He simply pursed his lips, forming a line with them, lifting one of their corners slightly and nodding in greeting.

—Uhm, mom and Gemma? —For some reason he became much more tense when he saw his father standing up, walking very slowly towards him.

—They're not here.

—Oh. —Harry nodded, looking around. He was really insecure. He frowned a little, thinking. Where could his family be? —Where did they go?

—To settle a few issues. —He smiled friendly. Even though he looked honest the answer to his question made him more nervous. What could his family be doing that he couldn't find out? For it would clearly be foolish to keep asking. —Did you have a good time last night at the protest?

—Oh, yeah. —He got a lump in his throat for lying. —Yes.

—Have you eaten? Do you want me to make you something?

Those questions made him feel so loved, important to his father in whom he had always sought some kind of approval and true love, that his eyes filled with tears and he smiled with shame. He swallowed forcefully before denying.

—Oh, no. It’s okay. —His voice shook a little and he cleared his throat. —I already had breakfast with Fionn. Have you... Have you had breakfast?

—Yes, thank you..

—Oh, okay. —He nodded slowly before taking a step back. —I'm gonna get dressed for high school.

—I'll take you. —Des said, looking down and nodding. He seemed upset.

—Great, thank you. —The curly boy thanked before turning to go to his room.

Should he be happy because the relationship with his father was advancing? Finally, his father understood that hitting someone with a belt until it was marked wasn't the way to solve things? Had he changed? Or would he change?

He didn't even have the time to think about the answers to all those questions. A hand pulled his arm tightly and another hand with another object clinges tightly to his head, over his curls. Immediately he feels suffocated, and literally how his blood begins to boil.

—In the name of the Lord, I command you to leave this body.

Harry opens his mouth in a mute scream, beginning to tremble. He can feel fire on his bones, in his insides. Everywhere and, oh. It's like being burned alive for a long time and never dying, just suffering. —L...

He doesn't even finish calling out for the Devil that the crucifix in his head flies from Des's hand and an inhuman force throws his father into a corner of the room, leaving him on the floor and knocking some things over. Harry tries to stand while he recovers his breath, but finds himself complaining aloud about the fire in his veins.

He observes his father wounded, crying softly while holding himself, pale.

—W-what are you? —Des, too, is pale, and crawls back to the rosary, holding it towards Harry in case he planned to approach. —What kind of monster are you?

Shocked and disturbed, the curly boy laughs dryly, wiping the tears from his face and trying to straighten up because he was somewhat bent from the pain. He had to look strong in front of his father, or he would think he could easily defeat him. He pointed his little index finger at one of the people he once loved most, threateningly. He looked like a little boy trying to scare someone, but it didn't matter.

—Don't... Don't try to touch me again, or I'll kill you. —He arranged his curls, trembling. He was dying of ardor. —I'm going to kill you.

He wobbled to the door leading to the stairs and descended it with too much difficulty, removing his backpack on the way to his room. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, closing his eyes and bringing one hand to his chest. He couldn't stand it, and even though the fire within him hadn't spread, he could still feel the burning so strongly that his breath was like steam.

A pair of arms wrapped him tightly around his waist. —Harry. —The Devil's whisper was hoarse, and he even seemed desperate at the child's groans of pain.

—It burns, it burns. —The tears weren't coming out and he was having trouble breathing. His legs were shaking and he was sure that if he hadn't been held by Louis he would fall to the ground. —I-it's... —He sobbed dryly.

One of Louis' hands moved toward the curly boy's chin, grabbing him and lifting his face. —Look at me. Harry, look at me. —The child's eyes opened faintly and they stared at each other. Little by little relief reached the chest of the curly boy as soon as the burning subsided and something refreshing seemed to invade him. He held on better to Louis, closing his eyes again and receiving a desperate and needy kiss on the lips. —There you go, you're fine. I'm not going to let anyone touch you again.

—I-I tried to say your name, Louis. I was scared, It wouldn't come out.

—Your father won't be alive when you get back from school. —The Devil promised. Harry immediately looked at him and shook his head. —Nothing's gonna change my mind. I'm in charge here.

—No, no. Don’t kill him. —His favorite boy begged. He could no longer bear the burden of guilt, of death and how it affected his surroundings and made him feel so weak. —No...

Louis' eyes darkened and he sighed deeply, but it wasn't like the other times that the paintings just shook, this time many things fell and even broke. Oh, the Devil was so mad.

—He touched you.

—Louis, please. —He begged, bringing his hands to the shoulders of the elder, clutching and staring at him. The entity's expression was neutral, showing nothing but holding Harry by the waist tightly.

—He touched what's mine. —His nostrils widened slightly at his deep breaths. The light in the room dimmed slightly, and Harry didn't notice it until a strong flash of lightning hit, startling him a little. —Mine.

Harry sobbed, shook his head and tiptoed, shyly bringing his arms around Louis' neck. —He doesn't know what he's doing. Lou, please. —He tried to reach the mouth of the love of his life, succeeding. They rubbed their lips for a moment. —Please...

—He dies today. He goes to hell.

—Lou... —He shyly kisses the lips of the entity, who starts to devour the mouth of his favorite boy. That kiss is deep, full of passion and need. Harry clings to Louis as if he were afraid of everything that surrounds him, and partly he is. He was very scared and now he only begs for cuddles from the Devil who, not knowing what he is experiencing, is looking for some kind of remedy on his boy's lips to cure the rage he feels in his chest. They separate after a few minutes. —...Please.

The Devil withdraws his face a little and opens his eyes, which remain dark. He shakes his head slowly and this is the first time Harry has seen him so confused, shocked. —For hell's sake. What are you doing to me? —Again he takes his boy and kisses him deeply for just a few seconds, ending with short kisses. He sighs again and more things fall. —I'm so furious. I know how to solve things, but you stop me... And I let you.

They stare at each other for a few seconds, and the curly boy can't stop some tears from flowing again.

—He’s my father, Lou.

—I don’t care.

—It doesn't matter what he does, he's still my father. —He defended uselessly.

An ironic laugh, full of dryness and little humor comes from the mouth of the entity. —Humans. What is that ideology in your heads that because you have the same blood you must forgive one's intentional actions? Your father knows that I have my eyes on you. —His voice lowers its tone, his fury intensifying the uneasiness inside the little boy. —I warned him. I warned him not to touch you, not to look at you. He did it knowing he was going to hurt you.

What Louis didn't understand is that Harry didn't defend him because he was of his blood. He was referring to loving Des, with all his heart, just as he loved his mother and Gemma. His little family. And it didn't matter if his father wanted to hurt him, because he loved him and didn't want to do him any harm. Because he was better than that. Because he just couldn't take any more crap.

—Lou... —He sobbed. The knot in his throat didn't allow him to say what he felt.

—And now you're asking me to go on as if nothing happened, and let go of the fact that he hurt you. You think I can't see other people's wishes, Harry? —He asked. —You think I have been telling you you're a pure soul just because I felt like it?

—No, I didn't say that. It's just-

—Your father's going to know what it's like to be near hell when you get back from school. —He interrupted, bringing his face closer to that of his favorite boy, who tried to hold his sobs. —That's an order. Are we clear?

—Yes... —He says, blinking to shed more tears. The Devil lifted his chin and brought his warm, wet tongue to Harry's cheek, wiping away the drops of sadness, tasting it.

—Stop making me doubt my decisions.

—I’m sorry. —He allows himself to cry after Louis leaves a kiss on his lips and pulls away, surrounding his small body. Harry turns quickly, wiping the tears from his face and sobbing as he notices Louis slowly shaking his head with that neutral expression that characterized him so much.

—I don’t understand. —He says before swallowing. —Get dressed, I'll be back when it's dark.

In just a blink the Devil disappears, and with him a piece of Harry's soul, leaving him weaker, shakier and crying.

He climbs the stairs furiously after leaving his room, and as soon as he closes the door behind him he's back in the living room, dressed in his uniform, backpack, face washed and his hair combed, his father is there, motionless on the sofa and watching his son with a mixture of pity and fear. The fury flows through the veins of the curly boy as he takes a book that is nearby and throws it to the adult, who startles.

—You're such a fool! —Harry shouts, beginning to sob loudly, tears falling like a cascade from his huge, beautiful green eyes. —You messed with me and now you're gonna suffer! And I don't want to, but you deserve it! —He was gonna explode if he didn't tell someone the truth.

—...Harry.

He's so broken, so close to collapsing —H-He was right, you're a bad father. —He points his little index finger at the older man, accusing him. —You like to hit mom, and you like to punish me. You like to play God.

—This isn't you. It isn't the sweet boy I've always loved.

—No. —And this time his voice didn't break, it even came out louder. He shook his head slowly before putting the straps of his backpack on his small shoulders. —You don't know how to love.

And without further ado, he turned on his heels and left his house, walking to school while weeping.

He didn't last half an hour inside the classroom, but he spent much of it in the bathroom, which was completely empty at that time and he had the luxury of being outside the cubicles. Fionn Whitehead found him when their teacher ordered him to pick up the student who more than thirty minutes ago had gone to the bathroom and wasn't coming back. Harry cried and muttered "I don't want it to happen" as Fionn tried to calm him by wetting his face and hugging him. The curly boy looked extremely disturbed, as if he couldn't avoid what was coming, and he couldn't.

He muttered "Louis" a couple of times, but who knows where he was that he didn't show up for even a second.

Fionn decided to take Harry to his house when Harry seemed afraid to go to his own. He kept asking for the time and shaking his head in despair. When they both arrived at the brunette's house they made their way to his room and stayed there, drinking squeezed orange juice and eating bread with jam. Both had a short chat where the curly boy confessed to his friend that he had done something very, very bad that he couldn't tell and didn't know how to fix it.

Fionn said, "Well, it's up to you to stop things, but I want you to be careful. Feeling guilty and being in a toxic environment can ruin you and change you into someone else. Don't let that happen."

Hadn't he become someone different already? He felt different. Weak and strong at the same time.

It was eight p.m., time to return for dinner. His hands were sweating as he left the Whiteheads' house and walked towards his own. There was no one, like in the morning, and everything was dark. He could feel Louis' presence halfway, but he didn't dare speak. He was afraid of the answer he would receive.

Finally he arrived at his house and, without even thinking about it, he opened the front door, entering. He was wrapped tightly in the arms of his mother, who gasped, relieved.

—Harry, for God's sakes. —She pulls away after a few seconds, kissing her son's face. —Honey! I looked everywhere for you! But your father, uh. He told me you'd be fine and I decided to wait. Where were you?

—I'm sorry, mommy. —His voice shook so he quickly cleared his throat. —I was with Fionn, I felt weird and I stayed at his house. I'm sorry I worried you.

His mother's kisses on his face gave him some comfort, but he was still terrified of what was to come.

Anne smiles shyly then, staring at Harry. —Your father told me what happened. —She says, and the child freezes, pale and tense. He doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know what to say. —He's assimilated guilt, and he's promised so many good things, love. Everything is going to get better. He wants to offer you an apology.

**What?**

—U-uh...

His babbling is interrupted as soon as Des comes out of the kitchen, licking his lips and looking at his wife and son. He looks relaxed, even seems really happy. Harry swears he's never seen him like this as he approaches quickly with a guilty look... and red eyes.

**Shit, that wasn't his father.**

But it wasn't Louis either, he felt him behind.

—Harry, I'm so sorry, son. I promise I won't hurt you again, I swear. —He says fluently, encircling Anne's waist with his arm, and she blushes. He just nods, and that's when his father smiles slightly and looks at his wife, who looks back at him. Doesn't she notice the change in his eye color? —We should have dinner, I'm hungry and you cook deliciously.

His mother laughs, even more flushed. She looks like him when Louis says things that make him feel like the luckiest person in the world. —I'd cook anything for you, my love. —And both adults head to the kitchen.

Harry looks at Gemma, who is on the couch pretending to watch TV, and they stare at each other before going back to their own things. The boy walks down the stairs to his room, closing the door behind him before turning on the light. Louis is standing there, and he can't help but start sobbing silently, glued to the door.

—Y-you killed him?

Louis's jaw seems tense, and he stays still. —No. —He says. Harry stops crying, surprised. —But he's gonna wish he was dead, and I'm not sorry.

The curly boy starts taking off his backpack and coat leaving everything on an individual sofa in the corner of the room. He sighs and wipes the tears from his face before turning, finding Louis in front of him. He doesn't startle anymore.

—You're scared. —The entity confirms, Harry shakes his head. Louis wraps his arms around his favorite boy's waist, bringing him closer and gluing him to his chest. He lowers his face and sniffs the boy's neck just for a few seconds. —You’re sad.

Harry sobs again, starting to shake. All the fear he carried never turned to relief, now it was just sadness he couldn't shake. He felt terribly, and he feared not knowing how to control it. Louis looked at him without understanding at first, but soon, he could feel the emotions of his boy and, almost desperate to alleviate the discomfort, he lifted him like a princess and laid him on the bed.

The curly boy kept crying, and Louis wiped his tears before taking him by the chin and lifting his face, resting at his side but a little higher.

—Am I the cause of your sadness? —Harry just blinks, denying slowly. —Do you believe I'm wrong about the decision I've taken?

They remained silent for a few seconds, just listening to the curly boy sip his nose and trying not to make noise while crying. —No. I don't think you're wrong, and that's why I'm sad.

His mother, she... He had never seen her so happy, so radiant. He could even feel how beautiful and loved she felt, and the hopes rising from her chest. His father, who was being possessed by a demon and his soul was in who knows where, looked much more understanding and intelligent like that. It only hurt him because he really wanted to have his father back, but being this way.

The Devil kept gently caressing the cheek of his favorite boy, and again he looked confused as never before. It was really strange to see him like that, not understanding what was going on.

—I still don't get it.

—What?

—You care about the life of someone who doesn't care about yours. —He bends over and gently kisses his boy's lips. —It makes you sad that someone suffers, even if they didn't mind making you suffer. You are so fragile, and so pure. I... You leave me speechless.

Again they share a wet session of noisy kisses. Harry snuggles on the chest of the king of the underworld, who holds his favorite boy as if he could slip off his hands, which was true. Never before had he felt so much anger as when he was watching the curly boy unable to breathe because someone tried to get him off of him.

He caressed the boy's hips and pushed his tongue into the boy's mouth, who moaned softly and moved closer, needing more. Louis pulled away for only a few seconds.

—How come God didn't pay attention to someone like you?

Harry sighed as he felt the kisses of the entity on the skin of his neck, sucking and licking. —Uhm... Maybe he knew that... that I was going to fall in love with you.

The Devil's heart was beating again, and much more intensely. A smirk appeared in his mouth, pleased by his response.

—Or maybe I knew and kept him from getting in my way.

That night they made love, and Louis made sure to remove the fright and sadness from Harry's chest. While Harry slept, he allowed himself to lie down, embracing the boy's small body and thinking of a way in which he could enjoy his life with him... and not die trying.


	17. XIV. "The Prince of the Underworld"

It wasn't expected that as the days went by Harry spent them in his bed, curled up and crying. He couldn't simply forget that while everyone was having a great time with his current father, his real father's soul was in hell, being tortured over and over again by who knows what thing, since Louis was with him. Lately, he had been spending time with him, and all because the boy was extremely depressed. The guilt was really eating him up, and the presence of the Devil made everything worse.

It was when the latter realized it that he decided to put an end to it.

— _ I'm leaving. —The Devil stood up after he had been sitting for a while on the edge of his favorite boy's bed, who was wrapped in sheets sobbing, lamenting that he was on the same level as bad people. _

_ Louis wasn't just going to leave because Harry was too deteriorated to keep him company, there was also the fact that he had to hear things that weren't true. Why did the curly boy take all the blame, when it was the entity that decided to send the imbecile to hell? Why did he dirty his own hands when all there was in them was softness and gentleness? What did he want to provoke in the Devil by punishing himself mentally like that? _

_ The curly boy's face, whose nose is red, his eyes slightly swollen and full of tears, and curls stuck to it, becomes visible after a few long minutes where he kept it hidden under the covers. —W-what? _

— _ You're too poorly, too deteriorated. I'm going away, at least for two days. —And, fucking hell, he wasn't asking. He was just going to do it. _

_ Harry stands, clumsily advancing towards the beautiful man in front of him, clinging to his arm. Both are surprised by the boy's lack of stability, the tremor that is beginning to take hold of his body, and the way his breathing cuts. _

— _ No. No, n-no. Don't leave, p-please... —He inhales sharply and his chest tears with every sob. The Devil can feel it in his own flesh, and although he feels only slight prickles in his chest, he knows Harry feels it all too much. —I-I'm… I'm sorry. _

— _ Harry. —He approaches the child, noticing him to be really pale. He gently passes one of his arms behind the curly's back, and the other under his legs. He brings his nose to his angel's brown curls and sighs over them, cradling him against his chest. —Little one... _

_ It was amazing what the human could do to him just by mentioning the fact that he needed him. _

— _ I don't know what I'll do without you, please, I... —He squeezes his fingertips against his shirt, on the Devil's shoulder. —I don't... _

_ Louis starts to walk to the bathroom, and when he gets there he leaves his favorite boy on the toilet seat, leaning him against the wall. He doesn't tell him to stop crying when it increases, he just walks to the bathtub and starts filling it with warm water while taking off his shirt and shoes, leaving him in his pants. Once the bathtub is full, he approaches his boy and begins to forcefully undress him until he is in his underwear, holding him and carrying him to the bathtub. _

_ He got in and put Harry on his chest, taking his ringed hand to the water and running it over the boy's face as he stirred to try to breathe. Finally tired, Louis took him by the face and stared at him. _

— _ If you don't calm down, I'm going to dip you. _

_ Harry holds his breath for a few seconds and releases it slowly and shakily through his nose, but the crying doesn't abandon his chest and he can't help sobbing a couple of times, sticking his cheek against the warm chest of the king of the underworld. _

— _ Don't go, please. I-I don't know what to do... —He sobs louder, about to start crying again. _

_ Louis quickly begins to leave soft kisses on his cheek and then on his neck, holding him more against himself. —Stop crying, I'm not leaving. _

— _ I love you, Lou. —He sobs, and clings tighter to the torso of the love of his life, the one that makes the world less terrible for him. _

_ He doesn't know how long he's going to be able to take it. _

The days passed, Harry didn't get better and all because Louis couldn't leave him for a second because he went into a kind of crisis where he shrieked for the Devil, even with him there. The deal where the entity would come back at night had gone to hell, and the curly boy couldn't even look at his fake father because so much anxiety began to grow in his chest that he would do anything not to have it. The only good thing about his new father was that  _ Dominique _ wasn't played every morning on the record player, over and over again.

In the green-eyed boy's shoes, everything had become like that time when death looked into his eyes and all the important moments in his life were shattered. He was thin, depressed, he felt heavy and light at the same time, the day was sunny but for him it was like wearing sunglasses and the desire to cry invaded him from time to time, but he had stopped being able to shed tears.

He woke up in the middle of the afternoon. The sunset provided a slight light in his room and the blankets over him protected him from the cold, which had been quite a lot lately. He felt weirder than yesterday: He felt something in his chest that left him... as if he were in nothing. In other words: He wasn't feeling... too much.

Louis was sitting next to him and when he noticed that the little one was already awake, he took his hand and began to leave soft kisses on his knuckles. Harry scowls slightly, blinking slowly. He doesn't even know what day it is.

—What happened?

—You fell asleep yesterday afternoon. —He decided to omit that he had taken the opportunity to leave and that he had arrived just a few minutes ago.

—Oh. —He sits with the Devil's help. He looks smaller due to his thinness. He looks around for a few seconds, blinking with some heaviness before bringing his little fist to his left eye, rubbing it. —Hasn't my mom asked about me?

—Yeah, she came by a couple times to see if you were okay. —He lied.

It's not that Anne didn't care about her son, but every time she was going to go downstairs she told her husband and the demon said he would take care of it, even though he didn't really do it. Louis didn't mind that, he didn't want anyone but him in his boy's room.

He looked tiny as always, just woken up, his curls disheveled and drowsy. He kept rubbing his hand over his left eye, and unconsciously he was pouting his lips. It was inevitable, impossible, not to slip an arm over the child's back, surrounding him to hold him like a baby. They stared into each other's eyes for a while, lost in each other. Harry raised his hand to the Devil's face, caressing the precious skin of the entity with his fingertips. He was gawking, stunned, in love.

—I love you, Louis. —He whispers, unable to help himself and not expecting anything back. He only wanted to say it because having such beauty in front of him, having such cruelty and learning very slowly to love it had made him see that Louis could feel. Not love him, just feel. He slowly shook his head. If the Devil didn't love him and planned to take him to hell in the cruelest way, Harry would be glad. At least he would die knowing he had the pleasure of being kissed by someone as unique as Louis. —Do whatever you want with me.

After smirking at the child, the Devil lowers his face, moving towards the boy's neck and beginning to suck on portions of the pale skin. He loved the reactions of the boy, who sighed sharply and stirred a little, almost purring. He brushed his teeth against the skin and licked it, leaving his neck wet. He came up and grabbed him firmly by the chin with his free hand, devouring his mouth.

The kiss deepened, with their tongues caressing and smacking at the wet way they were kissing. Harry pulls away a little, opening his little eyes and watching Louis before unbuttoning his white shirt and taking it off. He wasn't wearing his typical black suspenders because he was in his school uniform, which was just a shirt, long gray pants, because of the coming cold, and black shoes. The Devil couldn't help but smile again, and all because it was the first time he saw confidence in Harry, who was slowly taking off his clothes, in such a sensual way with his innocent face, but still hot. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop after that.

Harry only stayed in his underwear, pushing his curls aside, allowing Louis to pull him closer to him and gently kissed his lips. He felt so delicate and protected, because the Devil was holding him like a piece of art that couldn't be even a little bit abused. And his, always.

He laid him down on the bed gently and knelt, beginning to remove his own clothes, revealing his torso full of tattoos, symbols, and unintelligible words. He took off his pants, his shoes and made that slight fringe that was always intact backwards. All of their clothes were on the floor, untidy and scattered. The Devil slowly took off his socks and ran his index finger over the sole of the child's foot, who stirred a little and couldn't help but laugh adoringly.

Louis bent over, leaving a deep kiss on his lips, without touching him at all, just holding his arms at Harry's side. Harry squirmed as he didn't feel the touch of the Devil on his skin, shyly bringing his little hands to the eldest's back and gently pulling on his naked torsos to bump into each other, but Louis didn't even move. He left the boy's lips and started kissing his chin, again playing with his neck and going down his collarbone to his torso. He licked one of his nipples and sucked it, also doing it with the other one when he noticed that the boy had liked it because he arched his back slightly.

He continued the path of kisses, entertaining himself for a while on the boy's belly. He didn't take off his underwear, but left soft kisses on top of it, which made him inhale sharply. He reached between his thighs and exhaled warm air there, feeling his boy stirring a little, anxious. He licked the soft skin and began to leave soft kisses, hearing sighs coming from Harry's lips. He pulled down his underwear and opened his legs, which remained on his shoulders. He lowered his face and pulled out his tongue, beginning to penetrate the boy's entrance with it.

The curly boy immediately released the gasp he had been holding back while Louis slowly kissed all over his body, and took a deep breath before continuing to pant for everything he was feeling. The pleasure flowed through his body irremediably, clouding his senses a little while he didn't stop moving his hips in circles, and he complained when after a couple of minutes Louis moved away.

He knelt back on the bed, gently pulling Harry's legs from his shoulders and pulling down his underwear until he was completely naked, with his prominent erection visible. He moved forward, with both knees at the sides of his child's torso and his member inches away from his mouth. The Devil's eyes turned into a dark red as he stared into the huge, innocent green eyes.

—I've had this image in my head for days, kid. —He brushed his glans over the half-opened lips of the curly boy, who was extremely flushed and his eyes shiny.  _ It had been a long time since he had seen them like that _ . —I want you to take it with your beautiful lips. —Harry closed his legs a little, squirming at those dirty words. He nodded. —I'm going to fuck your little mouth.

—Yes...

—Open.

The curly boy lets out a sigh before opening his mouth a little more, closing his eyes as Louis slowly pushed his member into his mouth, feeling the wet sensation cloud his senses, causing him to gasp before starting to move in and out of the boy's mouth, hearing the soft moaning that he let out each time his erection entered his mouth even more and feeling him squirm, closing his legs more tightly and moving his hips.

—That's right, look me in the eyes. —Harry opened them, blinking quickly and staring at the Devil, who took his curls in his fist, bringing him closer and pushing his whole member inside the curly boy's mouth.

The latter pulled back just a little bit to grab Louis' erection with his delicate little hand, starting with a hesitant stroking at first, but speeding up when he saw that the love of his life was fascinated by it. Leaving the shame aside and daring a little more, he raised his face and slowly licked his head, feeling the pre semen in his mouth and licking his lips.

—Fuck.

He felt a tingle in his belly at that hoarse insult and he licked again, only this time the base, and then he put the member back in his mouth, closing his eyes and getting more compliments and tugging on his curls. Louis believed that, sexually or not, Harry was the best. Always.

He pushed the curly boy back when he felt it was time, and that he couldn't stand another second outside of him. He spread his legs and allowed the boy to hold on to his biceps with his small, delicate hands. Louis bent down, kissing his lips in a dirty, wet way before moving away. They stared into each other's eyes because Harry had gotten used to it. All to avoid hurting him.

He felt a wave of warmth and pleasure traveling through his body when Louis' member was inside of him. He arched his back slightly and bent his little toes, really invaded by the exquisite and inexplicable currents that traveled all over his body.

—U-uhm... —He bit hard on his lower lip, trying not to be noisy. His family was upstairs and they had to be very careful, although Louis enjoyed watching his little boy being quiet and, if it were up to him, he would make him moan so loudly that even Des would hear it from hell.

The thrusting began slowly, deliriously as they kissed deeply and explored each other's bodies with their hands. Harry caressed with his fingertips the strong arms of the Devil, who ran his hand up and down the soft and tender thighs of his little boy. Their mouths were never far apart, their tongues touching and their hearts beating together, more than connected.

Harry groaned choppily on the Devil's lips, lifting his feet up to glue his heels to the Devil's lower back, his legs encircling the Devil's hips. Though the pace was slow, it gradually became stronger, harder.

—M-more... —Harry begged between low gasps and sighs as Louis' glans hit his sweet spot again and again, causing him to almost become delirious with pleasure. —Mhm.

The Devil immediately increased the pace, holding the boy's thighs a little tighter and pulling them apart to make it easier for him to move. He brought his lips behind his boy's ear and sucked, feeling him squirm as he groaned loudly, though he shouldn't.

—You've been so good, Harry. My Harry. —He licked where he kissed and pushed deeper inside him, hearing a low, sharp, choppy moan. —My favorite boy...

Minutes later he stopped thrusting and Harry opened his eyes in confusion, wondering if he had done something wrong before he was taken by the waist and turned over onto the Devil's body. —L-Lou?

—...That's it. —He whispered as Harry sat down, resting his hands on the entity's chest. The latter's hands went to the waist of the curly boy, who had his reddish lips parted, his cheeks blushed, and his hair disheveled. A treasure, that's what he was. —Be a good boy and ride me.

Harry licked his lips before moving a little, stealing a sigh from himself. He threw back his curls before settling in better and starting to move his hips in circles, with the Devil's fingertips pressing against his skin. They stared at each other, but the curly boy had to close his eyes when he began to slowly jump over the entity's erection because the pleasure was overwhelming enough but, hell, it felt so good.

Their bodies were warm, with a slight layer of sweat. Harry had increased his pace and surrounded the devil's neck with his arms. He had sat down and helped his child to push himself up, squeezing his buttocks and kissing his lips.

Harry couldn't stop moaning with the tingling in his belly, trembling with the pleasure that clouded his senses so much that he unconsciously dug his nails into the Devil's back, who growled and made the pictures tremble.

—I'm gonna... —He left his lips half open, closing his little eyes tightly as he felt Louis kiss his neck and pull him down harder in one of the jumps.

Three more times were enough for the climax to invade him in an exquisite way, travelling all over his body, bending his little toes and panting against the entity's shoulder, who seconds later filled him with his essence.

Both were breathing heavily, trying to recover from the orgasm. Louis took a deep breath before wrapping one arm around the boy's waist and throwing himself back, lying on the bed with the boy on top of him, resting on his chest and with his cheek on his shoulder.

The minutes passed, and in the darkness of the room they continued to embrace, looking at nothing. The Devil coddled his boy, stroking his curls, but despite this act of sweetness and protection, Harry could feel Louis' anger in his chest.

—I want to kill your father. I want to kill anyone who touches you. —He finally told the reason for his bad emotions, leaving a kiss on the child's forehead, who closed his eyes after a long time.

What was he supposed to do?

His father. Des Styles. He had a terrible childhood where his father looked for him to cover him with blows, where there was no mother present. He learned things that he shouldn't have, that everyone says are okay. They filled his head and now that he's a father he thinks it's okay to do the same with his children. In spite of the beatings, his attacks of madness and extreme cases of violence, he had always cared about him. He had always checked to see if he had eaten, if he needed anything. He would let him listen to Frank Sinatra and Marilyn Monroe on the record player when  _ Dominique _ wasn't being played over and over again, but was that an excuse?

Did it excuse all the times he tried to get into Harry and Gemma's head after beating them with a belt that was fine? All the times his mother had bruises on her beautiful face? Or how about when he didn't believe a word his youngest son said and wanted to burn him with a cigarette? What if he hadn't reached out to Louis and gave Des a heart attack? Why did he try to ruin the only chance of having him around by burning him inside when he wanted to practically exorcise him by force?

Harry had been raised the same way as his father, and he would never beat his children. Never.

His thoughts were so many that he couldn't even think in order, but he wasn't ready to make a decision. He couldn't. Even though everyone looked happier now - _ except him _ \- it was really unfair. Because it was like... like a farce.

He just curls up even more to the Devil's body and moans low, scared. —I don't want them trying to get me away from you, Lou.

A grunt comes from Louis' chest and the things on the wall shake again. He holds Harry tighter to himself before he presses his lips against his curls. —No one will keep you from me, no one will dare.

**_1956._ **

_ —Daddy? —The little boy asked doubtfully, peeking through the kitchen door frame, rubbing one of his little eyes with his little fist. _

_ No. He wasn't allowed to go up the stairs to the first floor, his mother always told him to call her so that she could take him up because he was very small and could slip or trip, but he had crawled and this case was kind of urgent. There was someone upstairs who was crying inconsolably, his father, to be exact. _

_ The lights in the house were off, but the kitchen was an exception due to the fact that the outside lights illuminated the room thanks to the window it had. There were two dark bottles, one with something in it and a half-filled glass cup next to it, with some of the contents on the table. The man rested uncomfortably in a chair, clearly drunk, disheveled, and in anguish. He wept silently against his hands, which were pressed against his face. _

_ —...Dad? —The five-year-old asked again, startling himself when his father also did so and rubbed his hands across his face to uselessly disperse the drunkenness. It didn't help, but he needed to find a way not to be clumsy in order to reassure the little one. _

_ The man watched his son with half his body peeking out of his kitchen door frame, in his pajamas, barefoot, and with his curly brown hair completely disheveled. His huge green eyes, which even stood out in the midst of that darkness, showed confusion and panic. His chest tightened when he saw him like that. _

_ He stretched out his hand and the boy ran immediately to his father, taking his hand and hugging his arm, closing his little eyes. _

_ —Dad… What wrong? Are… you...? —He opened his eyes, still worried and with an expression that the man knew very well, He was going to cry. —You… sad? Sad? _

_ Despite his condition he couldn't help but smile. His son was very adorable, and a very good person. He immediately lifted him onto his legs and held him to his chest, trying to avoid sobbing but, dammit, the tears were still streaming down his face. _

_ He sipped his nose and pulled his son away from his chest, looking at him. The latter raised his little hands, clumsily wiping away his father's tears. _

_ —Hazz, listen. —His voice came out slow, hoarse. He swallowed hard, looking down for a few seconds before looking up again and watching his son, who was staring at him, serious and attentive. That's what frightened him sometimes, that he was so neutral. —I want you to know that I love you. _

_ —I love you more. _

_ —And I'm sorry I'm bad sometimes. —He slowly shook his head, looking down again in shame. —Dad doesn't usually realize how much damage he's doing, but I love you. I love Gemma. I love you both. _

_ —I understand. —The boy nodded, blinking slowly and tilting his head slightly afterwards. —Sad? —The man nodded and the boy frowned. —Why? _

_ —Because I'm... —He shook his head again after a few seconds of silence. No, he wasn't going to tell his five-year-old son his problems. —...human. And we all get sad sometimes. _

_ A little pout popped out of the curly boy's lips, still frowning and looking away, thoughtful before he looked back at his father. —You know what… I do to be happy? _

_ His father couldn't help but smile, straightening up better. —What? _

_ —I do hug. —He said, wrapping his little arms around his father's torso, resting his cheek against his chest. —And do kiss. —He raised his face and, with the help of his father, who bowed, gave him a kiss on the cheek. —And mom says "I love you, Hazzie". _

_ His father raised his eyebrows, amused by what his son was saying, resuming his posture in spite of his drunkenness. —Seriously? _

_ —Yes. —He brought his little hands to the sides of the corners of his father's lips and lifted them up, clumsily trying to form a smile. They laughed softly and hugged again. _

_ —I love you, Hazzie. Don't ever change, okay? _

_ —I never change, I understand. —He nodded, receiving a kiss on his cheek. —I love you more. _

_ His father put him down again before he stood up. Noticing that he felt normal, not dizzy or anything, he bent down and took his son in his arms, walking out of the kitchen. _

_ —And what else do you do to be happy? —He talked to him as he walked down the stairs, holding on to the railing with his free hand and going into the little boy's room not before turning on the light. Surprisingly, everything was relatively tidy. The little boy wasn't one to leave things in the way. _

_ —I play. _

_ —Yeah? —He saw him nodding as he put him to bed and covered him with the blankets. It was cold that night. —What do you play? _

_ —Hide and seek. _

_ —Alone? —This time the boy shakes his head while his father leaves a kiss on his forehead, fixing his curls. —With Gemma. _

_ —No. I play with someone, but I don't know who they are. —He says, starting to close his little eyes. The truth is that he was very sleepy, and his father's caresses on his curls make him more sleepy. He sighs. —The man with rings... _

_ —...What? _

_ But he's already asleep, and he could never confirm that he had babbled that. _

Something very strange had happened.

There was an hour left of school. He was with Fionn Whitehead on a bench in the courtyard of that big place. Even though it's cold they're enjoying it, and also the loneliness because there's no one there. They finished eating some cheese sandwiches and were talking about Christmas, how they were going to spend it and if they planned to do anything.

It was then that the bell rang and Fionn stood up, sighing. —Okay, let's go. It's the last class and we're free.

He went to throw the sandwich wrapper and the two empty apple juice boxes in the trash can, and when he came back he found the curly boy still sitting there, with a slight frown.

He had often attended classes without wanting to, but lately he found it unbearable to be there. He was sleepy, sad and couldn't tolerate anything. He decided to end his torture, and start doing what he felt was right.

—...I'm not going.

His friend looked at him strangely, looking around, believing that Harry saw someone who was bothering him, but no. Those bullies were already well buried. —What? Why? What's wrong?

Harry stood slowly, hanging his backpack over his shoulders before blinking quickly, looking up to see his friend.

—Nothing, I just... I don't want to. I'll leave. —And, without further ado, he left the courtyard, starting to walk down the halls.

Fionn Whitehead was left shocked and frozen in place, trying to react. —What? But... HARRY! —He quickly followed, and when he caught up with him he couldn't help but laugh. —How is that...? I, uh... What's the matter with you, Jesus Christ?!

—I don't like it here, I never did. —He looked down the side corridors and, seeing no one, continued to walk, hurrying him a little. —I've decided to do what I want.

—Okay, hang on. —He took his arm again and stopped him. They both looked at each other. —Look, fine. I agree with this act of rebellion. The school is... well, is shit. —Harry frowned a little at the bad word. —But that doesn't mean you have to get into trouble. You're a minor and no one's going to let you leave. I think you're-

—Fionn. —He interrupted, quickly shaking his head. —I don't need an approval, I'll go now. That's what I'll do. —He said, standing on his tiptoes and leaving a kiss on his friend's cheek. —I love you.

He turned and walked quickly to the exit, noticing that no one saw him before he opened the huge front door of that place and walked out. Fionn opened his arms, his mouth half open, not believing it. He laughed when he saw that seconds later the boy wasn't coming back.

—HARRY STYLES!

He didn't go that far. He was in that park where he and Fionn had handed out the anti-cult flyers, sitting on a bench and snuggled up against Louis, who had just appeared a few seconds earlier and had wrapped his arms around Harry. His body was warm, there was no cold trace in it.

—You're rebellious. —The Devil said with a smirk on his lips. Harry quickly shakes his head, blushing. —Yes, you're sexy.

The curly boy couldn't help but laugh, raising his face to the entity, looking at him. Louis lowered his head and left a short, soft kiss on his lips. Harry looked around, paranoid, but there was no one to see them.

—I want to ask you something.

—Go on.

—Why doesn't it affect you when you touch blessed objects, but it does to me? When my father prayed and put the rosary in my hair... —He looked down, shaking his head. —...I swear I felt like my body was on fire on the inside —The Devil's arms tightened as he heard that, and he decided not to go into any more detail. —But you were strong enough to throw him away.

Louis licked his lips slowly before he spoke. —People think they can kill me with just an "Our Father" or throwing holy water. They're wrong. —He shakes his head. —They can hurt you because you are human and it isn't in your nature to have pure, hellish evil. It's like when you had just taken that little shit off your neck, I was visible, I spent days with you and you were deteriorating. You weren't used to evil, but now you are.

—Do I have evil now?

—Yeah, but it's not yours. You're still pure. —He answered quickly.

Harry sighed and closed his little eyes, resting his cheek on the entity's chest. They remained that way, silent for a few seconds.

—Lou? How much time are you planning on staying like this, with me? —Curiosity was eating him up. The Devil had been at his side for some time now. What was he planning?

Louis looks down when Harry pulled away a little, and they stare into each other's eyes. —A long one.

—Long? Uhm. —He wrinkled his little nose, unable to keep from smiling a little. —Ten years? Twenty?

—More.

—Fifty?

—No. More.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle, blushing. —A thousand? —He clearly joked.

—More.

The child's gawky smile at the Devil makes him look too adorable, and the Devil can't help but steal a kiss from him.

The curly boy, blushing more than ever, pouts his lips, lowering his gaze and squinting his eyes. That meant he was thinking about what to say. —Should we...? —He didn't finish that question, which was pretty inaudible. Louis could smell embarrassment on him.

—What?

Harry seemed to have gone into a breakdown, stuttering and stirring in his place. —W-Well... if we're going to, uh, be together for a long time, you and I... I mean. Uhm. —He swallowed hard. —We should… I don’t know. —He shrugged his shoulders, looking down. —Be a couple.

Silence reigned in the place for a few long seconds, only the wind being audible and the cars passing by from time to time.

—...A couple?

—...Y-yes. —His favorite boy said. —It would be cute. I would be like... officially yours.

Louis feels a slight sense of discomfort at the thought. What hasn't he done to make clear that Harry was his? He stared at him, serious. —You think you haven't been officially mine since the moment you dove into your bathtub while summoning me? —His question sounded dry and cold.

Harry was suddenly cold.

He quickly looked up, finding himself with blue red eyes, who were also staring at him. That was definitely not what he meant.

—Oh. I... that's not what I meant. —He says softly, and he feels bad because the entity didn't understand his reference. He hated not being able to show the world that he loved someone, because this someone was the clear and literal example of evil. He just wanted to feel things a little more normal, and call Louis his "something". —I'm sorry, Lou. Forget it, I'm yours anyw-

—Why don't you marry me?

He opened his eyes to what he thought he heard. There was no longer a beeping in his left ear, and it had sounded fairly clear. He looked up quickly, really blushing and shocked as he took a few long seconds to simply blink and take a deep breath, stunned.

—...What?

Louis wraps him better with his arm, putting him on his side so they're face to face. —Harry Styles. Today, November 13 of 1967... —He took off one of his rings, the one on his little finger. It was made of gold, and it looked like a king's crown. —...I declare you in the presence of any human, angel and demon the prince of the underworld. —He unwrapped Harry's body and took his little hand, placing the ring on his ring finger delicately. It fitted perfectly, and it felt warm. —You'll be mine forever. No one will dare touch you, belittle you in my presence, for ever and ever.

Both were silent. Harry just... he just couldn't believe it. Again they stared into each other's eyes, and the youngest was grabbed by the cheeks.

—Seriously?

Louis nodded, caressing the soft skin of his favorite boy's face with his thumbs. —Seriously. —He repeated, and didn't bother to look around to kiss his boy's lips deeply and slowly. No one saw them.

And no one would ever separate them.


	18. XV. "Pure But Guilty"

_ Would he be able to take it all back if he ever got out of there? _

_ He was being charred, mutilated, gutted over and over and over again. His skin? It was gone, and he could see the pieces of it in the air despite the darkness of the place, all thanks to the strong lightning that cracked his skull. He found himself naked, tied to a sort of web made of rusty, pointed irons. He was screaming, and no one could hear him. He could hear more people screaming, but none could hear themselves when they tried to say something. Everything there was wailing, loud sobbing, moaning, and the inevitable loneliness. _

_ Every once in a while, everything would go out and make him very sleepy. When his eyes closed, he was back on earth, but not in 1967. They were always different times, his childhood, his adolescence, his wedding, situations with his children... and they were all nightmares. Inevitable nightmares, which turned good times into permanent traumas. _

_ More than seventy years had passed. _

_ Would everything remain the same outside? Would everyone be old? Would he return to his body, to the earth? _

_ And what's important... _

_ Would he return whole? _

_ Because his soul... his soul hadn't just been submerged in that sea of fire called The Pit, burned over and over again without repentance. _

_ Would he be strong enough to resist? _

Two weeks had passed since what had happened, Harry and Louis were spouses.

The days had been strangely good, and when Anne asked her son about the ring he lied, saying it was just a ring he bought in a store which he had to go with Fionn. For some reason, after saying that Gemma laughed dryly, and the curly boy just stared at her for a few seconds, trying to analyze his sister, to see if she suspected anything.

How could she? When Louis proposed to him they were in a park, Gemma was at her school and it wasn't even in the same area. It was more likely that his mother would find them than his sister.

Over the weeks Harry had become paranoid, believing that everyone he talked to knew something about Louis. He wasn't afraid for him, he was afraid for the Devil. Even though he had confessed to him that exorcisms didn't affect him, they just sent him back to hell, but he could return very easily, the curly boy hugged him and remained silent, conveying his fear without saying a word.

Louis confessed to him how things worked after Harry asked him a few simple questions. What was hell like?

_ "—It clearly isn't the typical picture of fire, red candles, and a throne where everyone bows to me. It's not a house, nor is it a place per se. —He began, with his gaze fixed on the boy's thigh and his hand full of gold rings caressing that soft, pale skin, occasionally applying slight pressure. —There are many ways to spend eternity in hell and all of them are mandatory. _

_ —Such as? _

_ He sighs. For some reason, it didn't make him proud with Harry. —I have taken the trouble to observe the mundanes, and among that I noticed that what bothers them most is waiting. Waiting in line at a bank, at a store, anywhere. They can't stand it. When a soul goes to Hell it will see itself in a very long queue, and it depends on what evil that soul has done, it will spend as long as the demon in charge of that area decides. _

_ —Wow... And what happens when they finally finish the line? _

_ —They go back to the beginning. Like I said, it depends on what they've done. _

_ Harry nods, just like that. He can't react differently, he can't pretend not to be scared. He unconsciously cuddles up to Louis, and he receives him by wrapping one arm around his waist and another under his thighs, caressing it. The curly boy rubs his little nose against the Devil's bare, tattooed chest, and takes a couple of deep breaths before planning to speak again. _

_ —... Do you have a specific time frame in which you’ll take my soul? _

_ Louis is silent, and that causes the whole body of the child to become tense, alert. He hated that. Being so calm in the arms of the love of his life, feeling so protected and suddenly... freezing in terror. Not terror of him, but terror of the situation. _

_ —I thought I made it clear to you that I should have taken your soul long ago. —He says calmly, but the boy doesn't feel that way. He lets go and pushes him to his back, and the entity gets on top of him. They stare at each other, and Harry once again dives into that blue ocean, not without ignoring the piece of red. He loved Louis' eyes. —We got married. _

_ —Yes. _

_ —I don't intend to take your soul... but it would be inevitable if I did. _

_ Harry's breath stops. —H-how? _

_ —If I were to leave, I mean... definitely from your side. I decided not to come back, to detach myself from everything to do with you... it would be inevitable for me not to take your soul. —It was creepy the way he said it. —No matter how hard I tried. It's inevitable, because a deal is a deal, and even though I'm the Devil, I can't control it. It's the way things are. _

_ Harry swallowed hard, nodding after a few seconds and remaining silent, just blinking. Louis could feel the shock, despair and anxiety tearing at his boy's chest. He gave him a soft but deep kiss on the lips before looking into his eyes again. _

_ —You don't need to be scared. —He said. —Because I'll never leave. _

_ Harry's lip trembled slightly as he nodded hesitantly, looking down for a few seconds before looking at him again. —You'll never leave me? _

_ Louis' hand went to Harry's cheek, caressing it before kissing him on the lips again, starting a slow kiss. —No, I will never leave you alone. _

_ They covered themselves with the sheets because of the cold night that could make the curly boy sick, and they just stopped thinking and started an exquisite kissing session." _

He decided to clear himself a little from all those issues of hell, of his soul, of his father, possibly guilty of murder, etc. Today was the 66th -how ironic- year that the church continued to "offer its services". On the anniversary of the church they always held a kind of kermesse, games, food, prizes and, of course, a mass. This year it was his mother's turn to finally put her food stand in front of the church people's approval. Her cakes were exquisite, as were her chocolate chip cookies. She was very happy, and when she finally finished preparing everything they went to the car.

His father -  _ who wasn't really his father _ \- looked not only happier than his real father, but even friendlier. Not that Des wasn't, but he was a bit more reserved. The demon even looked happy to be heading to a religious meeting. Harry was just hoping nothing bad would happen.

Finally, they arrived, and everyone helped his mother to arrange her cakes on the table, and the signs with the respective prices. All the money the people collected would go to an orphanage outside of London. It was a hidden, forgotten orphanage in a forest. Quite sad, to be honest.

When they finish and the prices of each thing were in order, Gemma decides to go with her group of school friends so Harry, not before asking his mother, went in search of Fionn. He was definitely there and, if he knew him well, he was also sure that he was very frustrated trying to win some prizes from the games.

Among all the happy people who were there, Harry was able to admire nature. They were in the backyard of the church, which was large, spacious, and completely outdoors. There was a stone path, a beautiful waterfall with Latin words and a guy that Harry didn't recognize, and a forest in the distance that no one went to because it was no longer God's territory, but it looked beautiful, too.

Stunned by the beauty of the place, he was surprised when he ran into a body taller than him. He quickly looked up to apologize, but the smile that was on Mr. Whitehead's lips kept him from speaking, for he knew that he would begin the eternal talk.

—Harry! Good to see you, kiddo. —He sounded happy. Harry really liked his best friend's father, it was only a problem when he wouldn't stop talking... —It's a nice day, isn't it? —Harry nodded shyly and looked around. —You're probably looking for my son.

—Actually, yes.

—He's with another boy trying to win prizes. I walked by him a while ago. He was very frustrated. I said to him, and I kept telling him on the way, "Fionn, son. We're going to have a good time, don't get all five years old and play and try to win stuffed animals," but he can't control it. It's like an addiction. —Harry laughed. What he had assumed was true. —Oh, by the way. Are the rumors true?

—Mh? —For some reason, he got tense right away. —What rumors?

—I heard your mother set up her food stand, for the first time. I'd really like to eat something.

—Oh. —He sighed, letting out a low, nervous laugh on the exhalation. —Yeah. She's over there. She's got a lot of stuff. —He pointed in the direction of his mother. —Where is Fionn?

—Keep going as you were, somewhere on the right. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to spend my money on cakes and bread pudding. —The man's excitement made Harry laugh before they said goodbye and went on their way.

He finally recognized Fionn a few stands ahead of him, concentrating on a game where a ball had to be thrown into red cans, throwing only three. Not one more, not one less. As he approached, he recognized Liam standing next to him, his arms crossed and sighing. A pretty girl with blond hair and dark eyes stood to the side, and watched intently as his best friend moved.

—Harry. —Liam waved, forming a smile and no longer crossing his arms. —I'm glad you came.

—Thanks, Liam. How are you? —He asked politely, receiving a positive response before watching Fionn and returning to see Liam again. —How long has he been like this?

—I've been standing next to him since I got here. —He answered, and they both laughed.

The blonde girl seemed to awaken a little, turning away from watching Fionn and turning her dark gaze on Harry. A beautiful smile formed on her lips and inevitably her cheeks blushed.

—You... You're Harry, right?

—Yes. —He answered shyly, and shook the girl's hand after she held it out to him.

—I’m Ruby. —She introduced herself.

They put their hands away and Harry smiled sideways, causing only a dimple to appear on his cheek. —It's a pleasure.

Ruby sighed, gawking. She seemed sweet. She wore a long pale pink skirt, and a white T-shirt tucked in with matching shoes. Her hair was really straight and she looked very soft.

—The pleasure is mine. —She answered. Her voice was sweet too. —How come I've never seen you around here before?

Harry shook his head and looked sideways at his friend, who seemed more focused on the conversation than on the game. —Um, maybe you saw me but didn't notice me. It happens to me a lot. —He laughed shyly, looking down with a bit of embarrassment before looking at her again.

—I assure you, if I had seen you before, I would have noticed. —The girl says.

A furious blush comes over the curly cheeks as Liam's eyebrows rise. He's never seen Harry so flushed. Harry thanks so quietly that he doesn't really know if Ruby heard him and comes closer to Fionn when he loses again, complains, and takes out money again, practically throwing it to the man at the stand, who kept laughing quietly.

—Fionn. —Harry called his friend lowly, sweet.

—Hazzie.

—Your father told me you've been here since you arrived.

—No, I haven't.

The gaze of the curly boy goes to Liam and Ruby, who nod their heads and move their lips, silently saying "Yes, he has." Again, the curly boy's greenish look goes to his friend, who looks more serious than usual.

—I think you have. We should go for a walk.

His best friend sighs, trying to eliminate all the frustration in his being for having wasted so much money and, in anger, throws the ball, knocking down exactly three cans. Everyone stands still, and the man in the booth rolls his eyes before grudgingly telling the teenager to pick a prize.

—I won, goddammit! —He exclaims, receiving reproachful looks for insulting in a sacred place. Harry laughs with joy as Fionn turns to look at Ruby. —Choose one.

The girl's eyes begin to glow, blushing as looks at the prizes. She shyly points to a medium sized doll, somewhat creepy but similar to herself. The man gives her her prize, muttering "God bless you" before turning his back, talking to someone else.

They start walking, looking at the place, going through it. Harry, for the first time in a long time, finds himself having a fairly normal day. Finally, after buying themselves each a chocolate cake -  _ except for Harry, who preferred a bag of cookies _ \- and soda, they sit down at the fountain. Liam, Ruby, Fionn, and Harry

The first two teenagers were in an entertaining chat, talking about how they wanted to start a campaign to stop racism, justifying everything they thought, and what others might think wrongly.

—Fuck, I don't want to be here. —Fionn whispered to Harry. The two of them stared at each other for a few seconds.

—Why? —Harry handed him his bag, and the teenager took a cookie while giving a spoonful of his chocolate cake to the curly boy.

After chewing and swallowing, Fionn shrugged. —Well, for starters, I had such a good time at the Halloween party that, I don't know, I find this... depressing. Maybe it makes a lot of people happy, but it's just... not me.

—I understand. —He nodded. Since Louis was in his life Harry felt that nothing else made him so happy, even when he was feeling bad.

—And I've spent the day trying... —He cleared his throat, lowering his voice. —...trying to knock over an exact amount of cans to earn that ugly doll and give it to Ruby. —He lowered his voice, leaning toward his friend. —But besides the fact that I couldn't find a way to invite her to a milkshake, you came along and she seemed to be gawking, so... —He sighed and shrugged again. —...she’s all yours

Harry's eyebrows raised and he immediately looked at Fionn with indignation and reproach. What? He tried to think of some time where Ruby might have been interested in him in a more sentimental way, but he couldn't find it. Was he so deluded that he didn't notice, or was his friend overreacting?

—Uhm... no, thank you. I don't like her.

Now Fionn looks shocked, looking back at his best friend. —Have you seen her? —He laments when he raises his voice a bit, and both teenagers look at Ruby and Liam, but they seem quite entertained.

—Yeah. She's adorable. —Harry said, nodding before he looked at Fionn again. —But I don't like her. I could help you with her.

Fionn's eyes glowed a little. —You'd really do that for me?

—I'd do more than that. You're my best friend.

The brunette smiles at him. —Yeah, I'm in love with you too. —He jokes, and they both start laughing.

Harry stops when the uneasiness settles in his stomach and he feels a breeze that shakes his body. He blinks, looking around eagerly, and sees Louis a few meters away, in the middle of the people and with his serious countenance, staring at him. He tries not to smile at the happiness and stands up.

—Fionn, I'm going to the bathroom. —He says, without averting his eyes from the Devil in the distance. His friend confirms that he heard with a murmur and Harry begins to walk slowly, trying to hide while he squeezes the bag of cookies against his chest.

He slowly passes by the Devil's side, who starts walking beside him. Harry looks at the people around him, noticing that no one is paying attention to him.

—Lou? What's going on? —He speaks softly, barely audible. —Is... is everything all right?

—Yeah, I just wanted to see you. You're having fun. —Harry nodded. He wasn't dying of fun, but he was having a nice day.

—I miss you...

Louis seemed to be about to respond, but he saw something not so far away and slowly shakes his head. —What kind of repulsive humans organize things like this.

Harry watched and felt his heart turn over. There were pictures of the two school bullies with lots of flowers around them. Harry couldn't help but clear his throat a little at the knot that was forming in his throat, and Louis was upset. He knew it still affected his favorite boy.

—Fucking plagues. —He muttered, and with a sigh he caused a strong wind to blow out the candles and cause the pictures to fall from the tables as well as some flowers. Harry shook his head before turning to walk. He didn't want to see that.

He stopped suddenly when Father William gave him a tremendous fright, standing in front of him and staring at him with a serious look on his face. —Harry Styles. —He said. He looked behind the boy for a second before he looked at him again. —We should talk.

He turned and began to walk towards the back entrance of the church. Harry looked at Louis before they both followed him, climbing the steps and stopping when they were in front of the Father, who looked at Harry with reproach and indignation.

—What is he doing here? —Harry's eyes open wide as his hands begin to sweat and his heartbeat accelerates.

—W-who?

The reproach in his eyes increases, and Harry struggles not to look away.

—I can see him, and he's smiling at me. What's he planning? No one's bothering anyone.

—He's not planning anything. —The curly boy quickly defends his husband. —He just wanted to check that I was okay, if no one was bothering me or anything was going on.

Father William shakes his head. —What could be bothering you here? How can he even be here? This is sacred territory.

Louis' low, hoarse, chilling laughter becomes present. Harry shakes his head, getting a little closer to the Devil and gently grabbing him by the sleeve of his black shirt.

—P-Please speak carefully or this won't end well. —Harry says in a sweet, low tone.

—I'm not afraid of him, I'm protected and he knows it. —He says, staring at the Devil and how he continues to smile at him.

—Yes, but I'm not sure everyone here is as protected as you are, so please stop talking like that. He won't tolerate the disrespect. —This is the first time Louis has heard his favorite boy talk in irritation, without crying or feeling hurt. He likes it and doesn't avoid raising and lowering his eyebrows, watching him before watching the priest again.

—Do you know what that's called, Father? Not being selfish and thinking of others. —Louis says quietly, winking at him before the father nervously looks at Harry again.

—Okay. I won't say anything else, but I don't want you here. —He says. The firmness that Harry used before to speak evaporates, and now Louis can feel the boy's sadness, as his happy day slips through his fingers. It upset him. —People are going to feel his presence and get scared. You can't feel it because you're used to it.

He was wrong. Harry could, but he didn't feel it as strongly.

He nodded slowly, lowering his eyes. He'd go home and be with Louis. Even though it made him happy, this didn't. He felt rejected by his surroundings.

Louis rolls his eyes. —Alright , I'll go. —He says. Harry looks up and thanks him silently with a little smile. He takes a step to stand inches away from Father William and looks him straight in the eye. —Put a lot of saints' candles in your house, maybe they will help you not to find your wife dead on her side of the bed.

With a blink of an eye, the Devil disappeared, and Harry stops feeling the uneasiness in his stomach. He watches Father William with a little shame, pity. —I… I’m sorry. —He apologized ungracefully.

—You're a good boy, Harry. He's not worth it, and you know how this is going to end. —He said before he turned around and went into the church.

_ Did he? _

While he was looking for his friends, he kept thinking that Louis was unable to give him a single kiss, nor touch him. The only time they touched each other was when Harry held him by his T-shirt sleeve, but there wasn't even the slightest contact with their skins. Now, the need to have him, to feel him, wasn't coming out of his head. He wanted to be kissed, held and caressed by the Devil urgently.

He got to the fountain and everyone was there, except that Liam was writing something down in his little notebook while Fionn and Ruby were talking closer than usual. Harry couldn't help but smile a little as he approached and sat down next to Liam, who quickly stopped writing and closed his notebook, putting it away to watch the curly boy with a smile.

—Harry. Where were you?

—I went to the bathroom. —He answered, holding out his bag of cookies to his friend, who declined.

—No, thank you. I tried your mother's cakes, and they're delicious. She's a very good cook. Where did she learn to cook like that?

But Harry didn't answer, his scowled as he stared at Liam's face. The latter was thinner, hollow-eyed, pale...

Could it be...?

—Uh, Harry? Everything okay? —He asked, feeling a little uncomfortable with the way the child was looking at him, as if he were analyzing him completely.

—Liam? You... Are you alright? —He asked, fearing the answer he would surely get.

The brown-eyed man blinked slowly, processing his friend's words before laughing softly, nervously, and looking down. —Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm good. If you are saying that because of my face, it is because I haven't been sleeping well these days.

_ Oh, no… _

_ He was lying. _

Harry decided to end the subject there. The hours passed, the night came, and everyone toasted except the curly-haired boy, who was a little further away. Unnoticed he decided to go into the woods, trying not to fall because it was quite dark. When he got a little further away he finally sighed, leaning against the trunk of one of the thousands of trees there and feeling the uneasiness return to his stomach. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Devil standing there.

—Why is my favorite boy here, all alone? —He asked.

Harry looked up a little, staring into his eyes as the older man approached his husband until he was cornered against the trunk and his own body. He brought a hand to the cold cheek of the curly boy, who leaned to the touch and closed his eyes, lifting his face.

—What are you worried about?

—I don’t wanna talk about it, Lou. —He whispers, almost apologizing, and opens his eyes again, losing himself in the eyes of the Devil. He stands on his tiptoes while his arms encircle the neck of the Devil and rubs his lips against the entity's. —Today…

—Yeah?

—You haven't given me even one little kiss. —He says shyly and somewhat sadly.

Louis smirks without kissing his favorite boy, torturing him with caresses on his lips with his own. —And you wanted a kiss? —He says, pretending not to notice. Harry nods, gawking and closing his eyes. —Just one?

—No… more.

The Devil raises his eyebrows, bringing his arms around the child's waist. —More? Only mine's? No one else's?

—Yours, always... —He was really blushing, but he appreciated the darkness of the place.

Louis gives a lick to the lips of the boy, who sighs shakily. —Good boy. —He says, finally shortening the distance and devouring the curly boy's mouth.

The pace was slow and deep, with Harry tilting his head and moving his little fingers behind the neck of the entity, who pressed his ringed fingertips into the child's skin. The kiss was long, somewhat noisy, all that Harry needed. The Devil's tongue entered the boy's mouth, and he couldn't help but make sounds when the two tongues touched, caressing each other.

They separated after a few minutes because everything was getting more heated and Louis needed to know what was bothering his favorite boy. He could smell the worry, the sadness, the need mixed in his natural scent.

—Tell me what's going on...

—I-it's... it's nothing. —He opened his eyes, fluttering his eyelashes rapidly for a few seconds, looking away.

—Harry. —He called him, and he stared into the eyes of the Devil. —I can tell you're hiding something from me. Tell me what's going on, or I'll start thinking someone put their hands on you and I'll burn this whole place down.

—No, no. Relax. No one touched me. Today was a beautiful day. —He quickly said to calm the Devil, who became less tense but still clung to the boy even more. —I was just wondering... Do you make deals with more people?

Louis nodded once. —Of course.

The knot in Harry's throat began to form slowly, painfully. —Oh. —He swallowed hard. —What kind of deals?

—Whatever they want.

—Have someone ever asked... to be with you?

—Yes.

The pain in the boy's chest intensified a little, fearing to hear the worst. —And what... what did you do?

—I did it.

—Do you still... make those kinds of deals with people?

—Indeed, I do. —He answered, as if it was nothing.

Harry's gaze began to fade a little, and Louis' frowned as he felt a wave of sadness and disappointment, almost as if his own heart was being broken which, only a couple of months ago, he thought didn't exist.

Louis continued to have sex with people, repeating over and over again that he was the Devil, that he could do whatever he wanted, but for some reason, he couldn't not do it. He immediately let go of the Devil, incredulously. Did he need to ask any more questions? Did he need to directly say, "Louis, you sleep with thousands of people who require your services while you are married to me"?

—You've got it all wrong. —Louis said quickly as he saw the pain in his husband's green eyes, and tears that would soon come out. —People who apply to me only see me once. Whatever they ask, just once, in their dreams.

—So you sleep with them in their dreams? —The curly boy couldn't help saying, with a broken voice.

—No. —The entity answers immediately. —I have done it, of course. But when I met you... I couldn't.

Harry blinks and lets tears flow from his eyes, watching the Devil. He looks lost. —You couldn't? —He tries not to sob while the Devil shakes his head.

—No. —He repeats. He steps closer and rubs the tip of his nose with that of his boy. —I manipulate them. I send them a random demon that makes them think they're negotiating with me. —He explains. Harry's breathing becomes calm again, and he's dying to cry. —Kid... I gave you my fucking ring.

Harry looks down trying not to sob. He had had the shock of his life, he could even feel his heart breaking even after the Devil confirmed that he hadn't been with anyone. —A person close to me is being possessed. He doesn't deserve it.

Louis watches him for a few seconds. —If he's being possessed and hasn't killed anyone yet, it means he made a deal. —He said calmly.

Liam making a deal? Why would he do that? Harry shook his head. No. It was wrong.

—It doesn't matter if he did it or not, he's an excellent person and he doesn't deserve to end up dead and go to hell. —The boy justified.

Now Louis looked a little upset. —And you did deserve it? —He reproached as they once again stared at each other.

—...It’s different. —Harry whispered after a few seconds, looking down. Maybe he didn't deserve it at first, but now... now he deserved the worst.

—I assure you, you're one of the most insecure humans I've ever met. You'd never believe you could get my attention, you still don't believe it now so there's no way you'd call me believing this would happen. What's different between you and that person? —He asked. It was the truth. Harry was too unsure of himself, and he liked it, of course. But he hated it when he blamed himself for all the bad things he did.

—He's a good person, and I'm not. —The curly boy answered firmly, completely convinced and looking up to look again at the love of his life, who seemed calm but did not sound the same.

—How can you talk about yourself like that? —He said, offended. It was amazing how he found himself defending his husband... from his own husband. —Harry, you’re pure. —The boy shook his head.

—A pure person does not kill three people, nor does he send his own father to hell.

Louis gave him a slow, gentle kiss on the lips. He wanted to cure all guilt, all bad feelings but, bloody hell, he was the Devil.

—We could talk about it a hundred times and, believe me, my answer would be the same: The responsibility is mine. —Whenever he could, he repeated it, because it was the truth.

Of course, Louis knew why Harry felt guilty, the latter had brought the Devil to earth -  _ something that was wrong because the entity went up from time to time before being with the child _ \- knowing that the king of the underworld wouldn't just give a couple of scares. Harry knew this, and felt it was his responsibility because he called Louis.

—It's not... it's mine. I-It's my fault, I feel it. —His voice cracked and more tears fell down his face as he lowered his head further. It was the first time he had ever said it out loud.

—You feel wrong. —Louis said, holding his favorite boy more tightly to his chest. —Did you lie to me?

—...W-What?

—Were you the one who begged me not to send your father to hell?

—Yes. —He answers quietly, wiping away his tears and rubbing his face against Louis' chest, like a kitten in need of affection.

The Devil's mouth went to his neck, delicately kissing portions of skin before his mouth was near the child's ear.

—Weren't you the one who went crazy when he saw the people who were going to let you drown in a lake dead? —He whispered.

—I was the one who said your name so my father would have a heart attack.

—No. That was you calling me to save you, not to kill him. He was going to burn you, torture you. —He justified, breathing deeply for a few seconds when the anger of memory returned.

—Lou... —He sipped his nose and was pulled away from the Devil's chest and taken by the cheeks. Again they stared at each other as the entity's thumbs wiped away his tears.

—You must stop taking responsibility for everything I do. —He began, very serious. —I've done worse, and if with every situation I deal with you think it's your responsibility, then go and marry God, because the only thing you're going to watch by my side is me ruining the lives of people who asked for it.

Harry was silent, struggling not to hiccup and breathing deeply through his nose. —N-No. I want to be with you.

—Good, I hoped so. —Louis answers, smirking before kissing his lips gently, pushing his face away a little. —Look at me. —Harry did what the entity said.—I need you thinking, I need you sane. —The boy nodded, trying to hide the pout on his lip. Louis licked it.

—Lou, I love you. —He whispered shyly.

—I know. —He said before he began another exquisite and prolonged kiss.

They stepped aside when, once again, things got heated.

—Go back, or they'll start looking for you. —He says, pulling away completely and kissing the child's knuckles before winking.

—Okay…

—I'll be here tomorrow afternoon. I have some unfinished business today.

—I'm going to miss you.

What was that feeling in his body when Harry said something like that? Had anyone ever missed him in all eternity? He watched him for a few seconds, neutral.

—And I you... —He said, admiring the blush on his favorite boy's cheeks and the shy little smile. —Now go. Go.

Harry turned around, walking out of that forest and wiping his face thoroughly on the way. He was cold, and the Devil wouldn't be around to hold him in the night.

The kermesse was over. Everyone left in their respective cars and when the Styles family arrived at their house, after helping to unload their mother's leftovers, the curly-haired boy went to his room. He took off his clothes when he got to the basement and took that old blanket he used to sleep with when he was little. He wrapped it up next to him in the bed and hugged it, slowly plunging into a deep sleep where Louis held him and stroked his hair. It felt real.

**What Harry didn't know was that someone was in his room that night, stroking his hair and... it wasn't Louis.**


	19. XVI. "Heartbreaker"

Harry wakes up the next day, completely safe, with his mother knocking on his door and trying to keep the boy from being late for school. His huge green eyes open slowly, and in front of him was the Devil staring at him as one of the corners of his mouth slowly rose.

—Lou... —He whispers softly and sweetly, his voice sounding hoarse because it was the first time in the day he spoke. The entity's hand full of precious gold rings goes to the chocolate curls of his favorite boy, who closes his eyes again and seems to relive that moment when he didn't know if he was really awake or dreaming. —Have you been here all night?

—No, I got here a few minutes ago. —He answers. Harry doesn't worry because nothing strange crosses his mind, and besides he was really very much asleep so he can't know exactly.

He begins to rub his little eyes so that he won't be so sleepy and can get up to at least kiss the Devil. However, the latter turns out to be quicker because he bends over and begins to leave soft, slow kisses on Harry's pale, soft face, who wraps his arms around the entity's neck and closes his eyes again. He can feel himself falling asleep little by little.

It's when Louis takes his hand to the back of the curly boy to give him a soft and intimate caress under his pyjamas that he feels some protruding skin lines grazing his fingertips. The child's body shudders in mild pain and he frowns, opening his eyes again and looking at the Devil's countenance. His eyes are a little darker.

—What happened to you? —He demands to know.

—What? What do I have? —He doesn't even try to look at himself because it's impossible. Louis presses his hand a little on the scratches, causing Harry to hiss on a complaint but, soon after he's finished, he feels no more pain. The Devil had healed his wounds. —Lou? What's going on? You're... you're scaring me.

—There's nothing to be scared of. —He lies, and he draws Harry in, sitting back and putting him in his lap, against his chest. The boy rubs his face against the archangel's torso, like a kitten. —Get up and go to school. I have some unfinished business, but you'll see me here tonight. —Harry nods and Louis grabs him by the chin, leaning in a little and leaving a soft kiss on his lips. —Go, it's getting late.

He didn't really give a shit if he was late for school, because he didn't give a shit about school or the whole fucking world, except for Harry. He had some unfinished business to take care of, though.

Because that son of a bitch screwed with his boy.

The curly boy stands up after receiving a soft kiss that left his lips tingling and got off the Devil's lap, walking quietly to the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

It doesn't take Louis a second to stand up and, in the blink of an eye, be in the room on the top floor of the house. Des and Anne's room, only the first one was there, which wasn't really Des and was in a white shirt and underpants, looking for clothes to wear while whistling an unrecognizable tune and completely unaware that the Devil was a few inches behind him.

—Did you do that to Harry's back? —He says, and the demon takes it so surprisingly that he throws the trousers he had in his hand and gives a somewhat comical cry, turning and watching the Devil in terror.

—W-What? No. No, no, Sir. No. —He takes a few steps backwards until he's glued to the wall. —I-I don't even talk to him

—You're the only demon in the house, and my boy has scratches on his back. —Des keeps shaking his head in terror. Because Louis could do whatever he wanted with him.

—It wasn't me. No.

He knew he wasn't lying, and even if his eyes were dark and he wanted to kill someone, he couldn't blame the wrong person, because Harry could be in danger, and it had to be dealt with one way or another. He nodded slowly, completely serious.

—Anyway, you've already bored me. Go, and make the bastard come back. —He commands. The demon that inhabited Des's body doesn't seem happy about it, but tries not to show it and nods. —Tell him that if he says one word about where he's been, he'll definitely go back. And you... —He raises his head a little as a sign of authority. —If you run away, I'll arrange for you to spend the worst eternity of your life.

—Y-Y-Yes. Yes, my king. —He stands up straight in his place, ready to go.

—One more thing. —Louis slowly approaches the demon, and when he has him just inches away, he begins to smirk slowly. —Spread the word. There's a prince.

—P… Prince.

—That's right. You learn quickly. —He says, and as funny as it sounds, his winning expression hasn't changed. —And if anyone lays a finger on him again... I'll snap my fingers, and they'll all die. Capiche?

The demon just nods, shaking before lifting his face, looking up at the ceiling and opening his mouth. Black smoke comes out of his mouth fleetingly before he falls to the ground, passed out... but breathing.

The bastard was back.

Louis walks to the door and locks it before he goes back to Harry's room. Harry was standing in front of the mirror in his room, finishing buttoning up his shirt. He turned to look at Louis as he noticed him out of the corner of his eye, and Louis immediately got close, buttoning the last button for him calmly, patiently, but very quickly.

—Your father's coming back. —He says. Harry keeps watching him, immobile towards Louis' natural way of saying important things that were clearly going to cause him a slight shock.

—...Okay. —He could only say after a few seconds as his husband pulled his suspenders up over his shoulders.

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Louis slowly passed his arms around the waist of his favorite boy, bringing him closer. The latter stood on his tiptoes and they began a slow, gentle kissing session, tilting their heads to the opposite sides and feeling each other out, really doing it for the first time in the day.

Harry's little fingers timidly stroked the hair at the Devil's nape, while the Devil took the liberty of stroking the curly boy's back and stroking his buttocks.

The kiss, little by little, became more intense, but continued to be slow. They finally moved away because the heat was beginning to reign in that place, and it was getting late to start something else. Harry had to go to school, check on Liam. Louis was supposed to find out who the hell hurt his husband, and make him pay.

—I will come at night... —The king of the underworld says over his baby's lips, he nods his head in disappointment. Neither one of them can be separated yet. —...and I'll make you feel good.

—Okay...

Louis gives him a few last kisses on the lips before raising his hands to the waist of the curly boy and kissing his cheek, finally separating and taking a few steps backwards.

—If something happens with your father, take the ring off. I'm gonna feel when you do it.

Harry nods slowly and, with a wink, the Devil disappears. The slight void appears in the curly boy's chest and he feels that he doesn't want to do much, but he does his best and leaves the room after taking his things.

He rushes over for tea and toast, taking an apple for the road because, according to Anne, his father wasn't feeling well and was planning to stay in their room. That was a relief to Harry and he left the house quickly before Des changed his mind. He was scared, but he tried not to worry... although he did.

His father surely hated him.

Finally at school, after the boring classes, Fionn and Harry talked about everything at lunch. Liam walked past them, but he didn't even notice they were there. He looked lost, tired, and the curly boy didn't know what to do. He decided to wait one more day, figuring out exactly how to confront the brown-eyed boy.

When the time to leave came, the green-eyed child didn’t want to go home. He feared the rejection he was likely to receive, and he feared feeling that he deserved it, even if he did it often. He deserved it. He deserved everything.

Not being able to explain any reason to Fionn and needing to be outdoors in spite of the tremendous cold, once he said goodbye to his friend, he started walking towards that park where both of them handed out anti-Halloween flyers. It wasn't very far, and it was really beautiful, except for being lonely and sad.

Like him.

Once there, he chose a bench near the pigeons and a monument, which was a man with his arms open, as if he were holding something but there was nothing. Strange. He sighed and leaned against the backrest, breathing deeply through his nose and hearing the birds singing. He needed quiet, he needed to stop thinking. He felt like he was going crazy.

—Why are you here all alone? —His eyes opened quickly, fluttering his eyelashes as he smiled at Ruby in front of him with a shy smile. She was very warm and wore two braids. Her nose was red from the cold -  _ like his _ \- and so were her cheeks. She looked adorable. The teenager didn't hesitate to sit down next to him. —Not to pry, but it's very cold here. You'll catch a cold.

—I know, but... —He slowly shook his head, looking around and not being able to avoid smiling sideways, causing one of his dimples to become visible. —...I really enjoy the cold. I feel that people don't know how to take advantage of it, but I don't want to judge anyone.

—Partly, that's true. —The blonde affirms, nodding and shrugging her shoulders as she hides her hands between her legs. She seemed cold. —I think the cold should be enjoyed, but it depends on how cold it is. I don't want to, you know, freeze to death like he did... —She pointed her index finger at the man's monument. Harry started to laugh. —...and have people think I'm a monument in a park. —She finished, also laughing.

She was funny.

No wonder Fionn liked her. Oh, Fionn!

Harry settled down on his side, ready to talk. —How are things with Fionn, Ruby? —He tried to start the subject. The teenager blinked quickly, looking a little lost with the change of topic.

—What about Fionn?

—Oh, I don’t know. —The curly boy shrugged. —Well... I think you two would make a very nice couple.

The lovely girl's cheeks turned red. —Oh, wow… uhm. I don’t know.

—You don't... like him?

—Oh, no. Yes, I do. —Excitement flowed from Harry's chest. —He's very nice, very sweet and very cute but, to tell you the truth... I like someone else too.

Harry was a little surprised at first, but he didn't find it outrageous. Though his best friend's heart may brake in a thousand pieces, he didn't judge whether someone could like two or more people at once. It was something that couldn't be helped. Of course it didn't happen to him, because Louis was so unique, different, exciting and sweet that it always made him want more, and more.

Ruby looked as if she was afraid of being judged and also as if she hoped that Harry wouldn't think she was just a tramp. Harry would never believe that about a woman.

Sometimes he felt he was born at the wrong time.

—Oh, I'm sorry. I... Well, I didn't know. I thought you only liked Fionn. —The girl's eyes go down to the ground and she moves her feet. She looks embarrassed. —There's nothing wrong with that, but I think you should clear it with my friend because he's... he's very hopeful.

Ruby kept quiet for a few seconds. Harry wondered if he had made her uncomfortable and even came close to apologizing, but the girl quickly looked up and stared at him. She looked even more flushed.

—Don't you... don't you want to know who I like? —She says. Harry blinks slowly, processing those words.

—Uhm, sure. — _ Not Liam, not Liam, not Liam. _

—Are you sure? —She comes closer to Harry, who isn't aware of it because of his innocence. —Because... well, you didn't ask.

If it was Liam, everything would be ruined. Fionn obviously wouldn't say anything against it, but he'd be so hurt by their relationship that he wouldn't even be able to look the brown-eyed boy in the face.

—I didn't want to seem nosy. You can tell me if you w-

—You.

**Oh.**

—...W-what?

—I like you.

Harry couldn't explain the shame, shyness, discomfort and phobia he felt at that moment. His face was probably a mixture of colors, his desire to run away to Louis' arms was endless, and the discomfort over his obvious homosexuality was more than visible. He felt the girl's hands grabbing his cheeks; she looked worried.

—Harry? React, please.

He blinked and pulled away a little, still blushing and surprised. He really thought she was gonna say "Liam". —I-I... I don't know what to say.

—W-Well, you could start with something like... "Ruby, I'll tell you how I feel." —She said, trying to help. But she made it worse. She was making it worse because, hell, Harry felt guilty.

—I-It's just that... —He slowly shook his head. He felt that everything he was going to say he would do by stuttering. He took a few seconds to take a deep breath. —...How can you like me? You met me yesterday. You've known Fionn for over two weeks.

Well, that didn't make much sense. He had fallen in love with Louis the second he saw him.

—I don't know. Um, well, I... I saw you, and I liked you. You... Would you go out with me?

Now Harry was going to die. Yeah. He's already dead.

—Ruby, I... —He looked down and slowly shook his head. He couldn't even look at her. He couldn't believe that he was rejecting someone, that he was breaking the heart of a fragile, sweet girl. He was always the one getting his heart broken. —...I'm sorry, but I like someone else. And I could never do that to Fionn.

The girl's eyes are full of tears as she squeezes her lips for a few seconds, on the verge of crying. —How do you know he likes me? He could be faking it.

—He wouldn't do that, I know him. —He says, and it was true but, partly, he understood the girl for believing that. Fionn had been with several girls, and he always said that one should enjoy being single. But it was different to ask someone out, to give them a kiss and never see them again. —He’s my best friend. —He whispered. He loved Fionn so, so much. He was a very nice person, and this hurt him. Now, more than anything, he preferred the answer to be "Liam." He looked up at the low sobs and felt pain in his chest when he saw the girl crying. —Ruby, don't cry. I'm sorry...

She looked like she was angry and sad. Harry didn't even have time to get close because the teenager stood up and started walking away to her home, Harry guessed, who closed his eyes again and took a deep breath to calm his strong heartbeat. After all, it seemed as if he had gone to the park to get himself into more trouble.

However, that way of confronting things led him to think that he could stand up to his father. He tried to get into his head that he didn't need his father, that he didn't want his love. That he was fine with just Louis. He got up from his seat and started walking home.

Obviously it wasn't true. Everything affected him, and sooner or later it was going to end him.

He can feel the blush on his cheeks even when he is about to open the front door of his house. Amidst the thoughts of what it would be like to see his father, he remembered the uncomfortable feeling of Ruby confessing, holding his face and asking him if he would go out with her and it's just,  _ oh God. _ On the other hand, he felt somewhat persecuted. Had Louis seen him? Surely not, he hadn't felt his presence. He remembered that if he had a problem with his father he should take his ring off because the Devil would feel it.

He had it in mind as he opened the door, crestfallen, and turned to close it. When he turned around again he could feel his father's arms wrap around him. Between the surprise and the fright he stood still, with his arms hanging by the sides of his body and hearing his father's gasping breath near his ear.

—I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, son. —He says. Harry stays still, scared. —I will never touch you again, I will never hurt you, your sister or your mother. I can't help it, but I learned my lesson. I'm really sorry.

They separate a little, and the man has tears flowing down his cheeks. Harry looks him straight in the eye, and doesn't know if it's because he wants it to be that way or if it really is, but Des really looks remorseful. Even different. Who was he to condemn him? He swallowed hard before he nodded. His hands shaking.

—I'm sorry I gave you a heart attack. —He apologized. He had to say it, even if it sounded strange.

—I deserved it. —His father responds, slowly shaking his head. He didn't want an apology from his son, he shouldn't have. —Look, I know... I know I've been a bastard. I'm gonna prove to you that I've changed, these three years I-

—Three? —Harry interrupts. Des now stares at him, nodding in confusion. —Dad, it's the same year as when you left.

The man stands still, processing that information just like Harry, who now feels even more guilty. He had put one person through three years of hell, and not just anyone. His father.

—Oh, well. I guess I suspected, everything looks the same. —He said, sighing and looking at his son again, slowly shaking his head. —I've missed you....

He was shaking, and he needed to take a bath. A refreshingly quiet bath.

—I'm... I'm gonna go take a bath. —He says, moving away a little bit.

—Oh, yes. Yeah, right. I'll be around if you need me. —His father answers, and after a few seconds he turns to go to the kitchen.

Harry takes advantage of that and also turns around, walking quickly to the stairs, closing the door before going down them and arriving at the other door, going into his room and locking the door. His breathing was a bit labored, but he tried to stay calm as he walked to the bathroom. He reached it and started to fill the bath after putting the stopper in.

He had decided on someone, as if he were some kind of God, to play with a person's life. His blood, his family. His father. He was apologizing, and he had spent three years in hell because of him. It didn't matter that it wasn't really three years, but in the underworld it was, and it hurt. It hurt him. Who was he to decide about the lives of others? Who was he to accept apologies from his father, when he was the one who should be apologizing? Because, yes, Des had made a mistake, but he was sure that a few burns on his body couldn't compare to three years in hell.

He turned off the tap when the bathtub was full of warm water and just threw away his shoes, shivering into the water dressed in a T-shirt, trousers, suspenders and socks. When his body was immersed in the water, he curled up in the corner of the tub and closed his eyes, bringing his trembling hands to his chest. He was too nervous, but the water was taking its toll, and slowly his body relaxed. He began to breathe normally and wet his hands and ran them over his face, cooling himself off. Had he been so desperate to relax that he had stepped in with his clothes? Hell, he must have really been on edge.

An uneasiness came over his stomach and his eyes opened, but he found no one there.

And the uneasiness was different. It was like the one he experienced with Louis the first time he showed up, chills, deep fear and twisting in his heart. He frowned.

—...Lou?

A deafening silence caused another shudder to travel down his spine as a slight pressure built up on his shoulders. His body slackened as he didn't understand, and he felt something pushing him hard but slowly downward. He held on tightly to the edges of the tub, not even being able to speak because of the fright, but it was as if that supernatural force realized that Harry was refusing to sink, because immediately the pressure on his shoulders increased and in a blink he found himself underwater, with his head bouncing off the bottom of the tub but not hard enough to knock him out.

Bubbles came out of his nose and muffled moans from his mouth, letting out much of the air he was trying to contain. His hands went to his shoulders, but he felt nothing holding him. There was nothing. He tried to get out, shaking and kicking, but nothing worked.

Just when he was about to give up, a fleeting thought crossed his mind and he put his hand on the ring, taking it off and letting it get lost in the water. Seconds later, the force disappeared along with the discomfort, only for another recognizable uneasiness to become present. He sat down in the bathtub and began coughing up all the water he had swallowed, breathing as deeply as he could as he burst out again in a mute nervous fit.

—Harry. —The Devil immediately approached and took him by the face, lifting him up and checking that he was all right. —Harry, can you hear me? Harry. —He called when he noticed how his favorite boy still looked desperate. In a shuddering exhalation a pitiful, choppy sob escaped, and his eyes were soon filled with tears. The entity wrapped him in his arms, drawing him to his chest.. —I got you. I'm here.

The curly boy clung to his husband with all his strength, and the latter lifted him up as best he could, not caring about ruining his elegant black wardrobe and taking him in his arms. He took a towel in one hand and walked back to the bedroom, stretching the towel over the bed and then laying down the shivering, wet body of his boy, who continued to sob. He fell down a little as Louis took off his clothes, beginning to blush as he was left only in his underwear. The entity sat him down again and took the towel, bringing him closer and starting to dry him slowly and delicately, giving him all the care he deserved but, fuck, he was the Devil.

Both were silent as Louis squatted and wiped the toes of his boy, who wiped his tears and began to feel cold. The Devil began to unbutton his own shirt, taking it off and revealing that torso marked and full of tattoos, symbols and words unrecognizable to Harry's eyes, who was wrapped in this shirt. Louis began to button it up and rolled up the sleeves so it wouldn't be too long.

—L-Lou... —The Devil's hands went to his boy's thighs, and he looked up to watch him better from the position he was in. —...something pushed me.

—I know.

—I’m scared. —He said in a whisper. He felt like he was going crazy, it was too much paranoia. He had too many questions, but he could barely breathe.

—Don't be, I'm already here.

Harry started crying again, being kind of loud. —D-Don't go again. —He said, letting the tears flow down his cheeks. It was too much. Really too much.

Louis stares at him for a few seconds, and Harry wishes he knew what was going on in his head before he nodded. —I won't leave. —He just says before he stands up. —Get in bed, I'll get the ring.

—No, no. —He breaks into sobs again, closing his little eyes tightly and bringing his hands to one of the entity's. —P-Please. Lou...

—It's okay. Alright. —Louis comes closer and brings his arms to the child's waist, bringing him to his feet. This one's legs shaking.

He took off the towel, leaving it on the floor, and opened the blankets, putting Harry to bed. He left him there and went to the closet, looking for a change of underwear, and came back when he found it. He took off Harry's and put the new one on, slowly pulling it up his beautiful legs. He placed him better in the bed and pulled up his own shirt before bowing his face and leaving soft, delicate kisses on the boy's tummy. Louis was being really sweet and careful when he was disgusting with the rest of the world. The Devil.

Was he lucky?

He settled down on one side and pulled the blankets over their bodies. Harry quickly curled up against the entity's chest and both of them wrapped their legs. The King of the Underworld's body temperature was warm, and that helped the curly boy relax a lot.

—You can sleep, I'm here and I won't let them touch my favorite boy.

—You're not leaving?

—I'm not leaving. —He took his hand to the teenage curls, stroking them.

It took Harry over half an hour to fall asleep, and Louis...

Louis was so fucking angry.


	20. XVII. "At The Time Of My Death"

The lights were off, the room was dark and cold, even though the two people in it were very hot. The snow had begun to fall outside and the wind was blowing against the window that almost reached the roof, but Harry was too busy to pay attention to the storm that was slowly beginning to form.

He couldn't stop moaning over the Devil's mouth because of his rapid thrusts. All that could be heard was the smacking of their lips, the bed creaking, and the sound of Louis moving in and out of Harry. Both of them naked, joined in the best possible way.

—I’m gonna... —The curly boy tried to warn, but it was too late. He let out a choked, high-pitched gasp as he arched his back and bent his little toes, tensing every muscle in his body as his essence shot out, staining both torsos.

As he tried to catch his breath, he remained still until the entity reached orgasm inside him. Both were left sweating, breathing heavily and their bodies stuck together. Louis held his arms at the sides of Harry's head, and began to give him deep, slow kisses on the lips, which were immediately reciprocated. His hands went down the little boy's body to his buttocks.

—I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you anymore. —He pressed his hands to hold him closer, while kissing him. The child's arms surrounded the entity's neck. —You’re mine.

—Yes... —And, fuckin' hell, he was.

The kisses continued, but Louis could feel them getting slower from his favorite boy. He came out of the latter and laid down beside him, drawing him into his arms and waving his hand, causing the blankets to fly in his direction and cover them both.

He knew that Harry wasn't sleepy, because he had been sleeping for most of the three weeks he had spent there without leaving. The boy was afraid, even sometimes when he was with the Devil, and he had to start explaining to him that there was nothing more evil than him with him while the entity was there. He was thin, pale, with marks that he didn't make. They were bumps, little bumps like brushing your fingers against a piece of furniture, or getting dizzy and leaning hard against a wall. He no longer laughed, he didn’t smile a lot, and was very dizzy.

Should Louis ignore Harry's pleas and go in search of what damaged him? They weren't getting anywhere, and his boy was dying slowly. Because of him.

He stayed up all night, as always, thinking of a thousand things as he caressed her husband's face and admired him until dawn.

It was December 20th. The snow continued to fall and the Styles family packed up to go to the cabin where they always stayed for Christmas with Harry's aunt, uncle and cousins. Harry was folding clothes on his bed with an open bag on the side.  _ Dominique _ could be heard upstairs and the curly boy wouldn't stop humming. Louis was watching him in a corner with his eyes wider than usual and serious, as if he were traumatized. That song had been played more than seven times and his husband was still singing it.

—Holy hell. —The Devil says before he pretends to rest his index finger on a vinyl. The music upstairs stops abruptly and he sighs, leaning against the wall. A few steps and a " _ I'll fix it! _ " from his sister-in-law are heard before  _ Dominique _ is played again from the beginning. Harry laughs softly. —I could kill your sister.

—Lou.

—And burn the vinyl with her body.

Harry shakes his head. He knows Louis doesn't mean it... or he thinks he doesn't. After he's been folding a couple of clothes for a while, he finally puts these in the bag. Now all he has to do is fold a few pairs of socks and his underwear. He's already got his toothbrush, two towels and a couple more shoes. Everything is in order.

—What's so important that you have to go on a trip? —Louis asks. He finds it absurd and can't help but snort as he leans better against the wall, crossing his legs a bit and putting his hands full of gold rings in his trouser pockets. —What makes it so special?

Harry puts his socks in the bag. Would the Devil be pleased to hear that they were celebrating the birth of Jesus? —Well... it's supposed to be a family Christmas. I suspect it's not going to be very nice because of my cousin.

The curly boy could already imagine being in a worse mood than he was at the sight of his aunt and uncle crying. Yeah, his cousin was a jerk, and went beyond the limits of being a pain in the ass. But he was a son, and losing a son... must have been painful.

Louis smirks. —It wasn't the best Christmas when your cousin was around anyway. He made it worse. —He says. Harry agrees, but he can't help thinking about how Louis knows that. Maybe he just guessed, so he plays it down. —You're a weird family. You pack up now and leave in the morning.

Harry sighs after tucking in his underwear and closing his bag. —It's so we don't do everything at the last minute. —He explains patiently and turns around.

A sudden dizziness leaves him somewhat groggy, and he thinks it's because he's lost weight in the last few days, but almost immediately his eyesight begins to blur. His muscles tighten and his eyes close as some images become present in his mind. The night, trees, his hands bathed in blood, black smoke and deep emptiness. It's all too much, and before he can even pray for it, Harry falls to the ground, unconscious.

The darkness stops consuming him when a gentle slap causes his huge green eyes to open abruptly. His breathing is heavy, his muscles are tense and the -  _ not at all strange _ \- beeping in his ear makes him want to cry, but he is too weak and confused to do so. He blinks a couple of times and his eyesight becomes normal, no longer seeing black spots.

—Hey... —He hears someone say, and that person exhales sharply, remarkably relieved. He hadn't realized that that person was Louis until he glimpsed in the cloudiness of his vision that perfect and unreal face. It had been impossible to recognize him in spite of his voice, and all because he looked worried.

He feels the curls that fell on his forehead being pushed aside, and after looking around and breathing deeply for a few seconds, he finally sees the entity. —Lou... —He says softly, weakly. The beeping continues even when he looks at the Devil in the eye, and part of him is relieved that he doesn't have to look away. He would die if he could no longer admire those beautiful blue eyes into which he always plunged when everything went wrong, and he had even agreed to plunge into the red as well. He loved it.

—I'm here. —He sounds neutral again, no longer as desperate as before. —You fainted. —He says, and helps Harry sit down but never lets go. Never.

The child continues to look around, and now that he's not as confused as before, his frowns, puzzled by the time shift. Was it getting dark? The room had very little light. Not absolute darkness. More like... sad. Everything was very dark and cold.

He was freezing.

—How long have I...?

—Ten minutes. —Louis answers before even letting him finish the question, and his eyes begin to turn fuzzy, dark. He knows what's happening.

Everything reminds Harry of the time Death took away a big chunk of his soul. Was Louis technically living up to the deal? Because clearly it's not getting dark. It was early before he passed out, and he still has to go to school.

The Devil slowly shakes his head before helping his husband to his feet, holding him by the waist as he notices him wobbling. He was too pale, too thin, too lifeless. And all because he was the bloody king of the underworld.

—I can't let you be like this anymore. —He speaks softly, in a fearsome manner. Harry just looks at him. —I have to go.

Despair begins to rise in the teenager's chest, recalling the fear he felt while drowning and the need to have Louis' arms wrapped around him. Even after that, even with the entity's shirt and in his arms he didn't feel so safe.

—Lou, i-if you go... whatever is following me, it's gonna come back for me. —He was trying to stay calm, to not cry, like he always did.

—I can put one of my crows wherever you are, I've done it before.

The Devil notices how, little by little, an unconscious pout forms on her husband's lips, and he is craving it even though he is about to cry.

—And how did that turn out? —The child's voice breaks. Flashes of that moment play in his head, and it hurts. It hurts him to have to live with guilt for the rest of his life. —Two people died, I was beaten and I almost drowned.

Louis' eyes begin to darken, and his jaw seems tense, as if he were holding on to a rage that he was trying to keep from coming out but would inevitably come out. He was fed up with the curly boy continuing to believe that everything that happened was his fault. Yes, he had invoked him, but, to be honest, he had felt at that moment how Harry didn't think he could really invoke the Devil.

And he hated the way the mundane was talking to him now. It wasn't rude or rough. It was soft, but every word he uttered was raw.

—I wasn't going to let that happen, and those people got what they deserved. —The Devil's voice comes out lower, colder and more hoarse. Harry shrinks into place as the entity takes a step forward, getting closer. —How do you expect me to catch whoever wants to hurt you if I have to be with you all the time?

Harry doesn't know what to do. He really doesn't. His husband's right. There's no point in him staying there, because the curly boy was deteriorating, his body seemed to be rotting inside, and his soul was getting damaged by the passing of the seconds. There wasn't much time left for him to possibly die. However, the state he was in made him more confused, less hopeful, and more... suicidal. So he didn't care if he died, he needed Louis by his side. He needed to not be afraid when the time came for him to die.

—You run hell. —He says. He couldn't believe he was arguing with the Devil even though, well, he didn't really take it that way. It was a marital argument. —You have demons that can search for that thing.

A grunt seemed to rise from the older man's chest. —Why does everyone think that just because I run a hellhole those useless people are capable of doing something? Of course, they will follow my orders and go after that thing that wants to hurt you, but they are also manipulators, and once I let them go they will do whatever they want. I don't think you want an army of demons loose on earth.

Of course, Louis wouldn't refuse to see destruction, chaos, death... but that's what humans were for.

Everyone had this erroneous image of the Devil, where he was a red horned monster with a tail, laughing maniacally, banging his trumpet on the ground and doing evil without thinking of the consequences. The truth of the Devil was that he was bloody clever, and calculating. He didn't do evil just because he could, he did it when something really happened. He didn't want to end the world, because it was entertaining him. He liked to steal souls, he liked to watch bad people die and have them in hell. He liked to lead, to force, to be a king... but he would never be a fool.

Except when it came to Harry, of course. Someone would touch a hair on his head and he'd become the stupidest Devil.

—Kill me, Louis. It wants to kill me. —Harry corrected. Louis kept saying that the thing wanted to "hurt him," and they both knew better. It was much worse.

The Devil took a deep breath, causing the things on the walls to shake slightly. —And I want to kill that thing, Harry. —He answered. He was trying so hard to stay calm, for fuck's sake. —I'm giving you a fucking order and I don't even know why I'm trying to get you to comply. I'm gonna have a crow watching you, and when that thing tries to hurt you, I'm gonna come back, and I'm gonna kill it. And if it does hurt you, I'm gonna heal you and everything will be over.

The curly boy's eyebrows raised in disgust. Was his husband going to use him as bait? Wow. The knot in his throat was going to explode, his eyes were burning, and disappointment radiated from his chest, a slight anger, fear, and much sadness. It upset him that Louis knew that he felt that, and still wanted to give him orders, as if they weren't married.

—No! It's not going to be over! —Finally he raises his voice, exploding. The Devil's face rises a little, wanting to show superiority. Of course he's superior, but they were husbands. And even though all couples always had the man, who thought he was superior and owned the woman, Harry hated that. The relationship belonged to both of them, and if Louis couldn't accept it, they would go on like this for a long time. —Because sooner or later you will take my soul, and one way or another, this thing you will do will be hopeless because I will be dead!

He takes two steps backwards, away from the entity and leaning against the wall. He can't help but start crying, and it's faint, audible sobbing. He feels a lot of sadness in his chest.

—I-I-I've never... I've never asked you for anything, I always do whatever you want, and not just because you're the Devil, but also because I respect and agree with you, b-but...—He sips his nose, looking into the Devil's eyes again. The beeping in his ear is really hurting him. —...don't put that kind of authority on me, as if I were your servant.

—Harry.

—Because I'm your husband. —The pouting intensifies and another inevitable sob comes from his lips. —W-We're engaged, and it's not fair. —He whispers. They both stand silently for a couple of seconds before the curly boy speaks again. —Try to understand me, I'm scared. —His voice is soft again, and he looks so fragile and lost that the Devil cannot help but step forward. —And I want to be okay, more than anything, but I brought this on myself. I asked for you, you didn't ask for me.

Louis nods slowly, neutral. —Okay. So, if I'm your husband and I have no right to tell you what's best, why do you still think I'm going to take your soul? —That surprises Harry so much that he just blinks, without response. —Do you really think that, after all we've been through, I'm going to send you to a place where it's just suffering for all eternity?

—I...

—I'm looking for a way to kill what's trying to kill you, and to keep what's killing you away. —He continues. By that last one he clearly means him. —You still think I intend to hurt you? —He takes another step, and now their faces are inches away. —I can snap my fingers and break the necks of everyone you love, because I don't care. —He brings his hands to Harry's waist and wraps his arms around it, drawing him in. The curly boy stands on tiptoes, encircling the neck of the entity with his arms. Their noses rub together. They need closeness, mutual body warmth after that big argument. —But I don't, because I do care about you.

Harry swallows, trying to ease the lump in his throat and closes his eyes. —You once said that the Devil was a great liar.

He feels that a weight has been lifted off his shoulders after releasing that, but he still fears for the answer. Louis slowly shakes his head, and one of the corners of his mouth rises a little.

—And he is. I am. I didn't mean for you to interpret it that way. —He says. A thousand ways to explain to his favorite boy what those words really meant cross his mind, but they only brush their lips together. —I can't lie to you, not unless it's to protect you.

Harry raises his head a little higher and they share a deep, slow kiss. Their tongues slowly caress each other, and Louis' grip tightens on the child's waist, who is glued to the wall. The kiss is gradually getting more and more intense. They love to feel, they love to have the opportunity to end it that way.

Harry is delighted when Louis lowers his ring-filled hands to his thighs and lifts him up, heading for bed. One of his hands makes a move and the bag with clothes falls to the floor, leaving the bed free to lay his favorite boy. Once he does so, the Devil lies down on him and takes him by the hands, raising them to the sides of his curly head, with the fingers of both intertwined as the fiery kiss continues. The Devil begins to make movements over the child's body, causing their members to rub together over their clothes. Harry begins to moan in a choppy manner over his husband's lips.

—Lou... —He cannot formulate words because the mouth of the king of the underworld has moved to the skin on his neck, kissing in a hot and wet way before starting to suck, marking him. His ringed hands release his boy's and guide them to his buttocks, pressing him more against himself and his movements. —Uhm...

Yes, he had the option to relax, to let himself go. He wanted to be with Louis, he really did. But he had to go to school, or his parents would again suspect he was sick... which he was. He scowled as he wrapped his arms around the entity's neck, who began to kiss him behind the ear, driving him crazy.

—L-Lou, the school... there's no time. —He moans because the friction deepens. 

**Go… Hell** . It feels so good.

—I control the time.

Laughter comes from Harry's chest, honestly and slightly loud. His laughter sounds sweet, like a six-year-old boy laughing. Louis stops the friction and pulls back a little to watch him seriously, neutrally. Anyone would be afraid of that look, but Harry had gotten used to it. The Devil just admires those little seconds when his husband laughs. He had hardly smiled lately, and they both knew why that was.

Harry watched him with a faint, sweet smile, slightly flushed as one of the Devil's hands went to the child's cheek, touching over the blush. The curly boy could swear his heart was going to come out of his chest, for rarely did Louis have such demonstrations of affection. Little by little both became serious, just looking into each other's eyes.

—I love you, Lou. —He whispers.

Louis sighs as he takes his hand to his boy's curls, caressing them. —I know, little one. —He answers. Harry swallows the knot that begins to form in his throat when he isn't reciprocated. He was so insecure. However, Louis' response had been more affectionate than the previous times. —I need us to do what I proposed.

Harry sighs shakily. —O-okay but... but tomorrow. Please, let it be tomorrow.

Louis keeps staring at him, like he wants to tell him something. —Okay, tomorrow. —Harry knows he disagrees because of his tone. They kiss again and the friction continues after a few seconds.

Harry can't stop sighing as he hears the Devil's deep breath in his ear. His little hands caress the warm back of the entity above the shirt, and wishing to feel him more, he shyly tucks his little hands under the shirt, feeling the warmth on his fingers.

Louis can't help but grunt slightly at that. He likes it. He lowers his hands and opens Harry's pants, pulling them down with his underwear. He does the same with his and again starts a friction. They sigh as they feel the intensified pleasure, and again they hug as they move their hips in tandem.

—God... —Harry gasps, and Louis smirks as he kisses the skin on his neck. —Ah...

—You dare to utter the name of God while you're in bed with the Devil? —He whistles in approval and, with his hands on Harry's buttocks, presses them to feel him even more. —You're a bad boy...

Harry, blushing but still groaning softly, takes his mouth to the Devil's ear and breathes out hesitantly. —Fuck. —He corrects in a whimper.

Louis gently bites his husband's neck. —That’s my boy. —Because he fucking loves to see his little innocent boy turn into a rebel.

They start to sweat, the pleasure that flows through their blood is too much, their erections throb too hard and, oh, it feels so good. Their movements are jerky. Louis knows when Harry is close by his beautiful expressions, where he opens his lips without releasing more than sighs and slightly frowning. He quickly kisses his lips, and makes their tongues meet once more.

—Hold it. —Louis says between the kiss, and Harry shakes his head. He can't, it's too much. —No, hold it. —It sounds like an order.

He spreads the boy's legs a little wider and, still rubbing, he sticks two fingers inside the boy. A loud, high-pitched moan comes out of the curly boy's mouth before he is kissed again. He can barely breathe from how good he feels. The Devil's fingers make a swaying motion, brushing against his sweet spot. His insides contract, and he wants to pull himself away from the mouth of the entity to take a deep breath, but the entity has him clutching his jaw with his free hand. It's too much, just too much.

—I’m cumming... —He gasps, and when the Devil moves his fingers against the boy's sweet spot, it's enough. The latter arches, leaving his mouth half open, bending his little toes and feeling the most exquisite pleasure as he pours his essence between their bodies, staining their torsos.

He relaxes immediately and waits until the Devil finally reaches orgasm, also staining their torsos. Harry needs a change of clothes.

_ Seriously. _

The high school students ran happily through the courtyard throwing snow at each other.

**I could be one of those children,** Harry thought, but that thought was easily forgotten, leaving him again immersed in that gray bubble he was in.

It was literally like in one of those cartoons in which there was a gray cloud raining over the person's head. There was sunshine, Harry knew, but he saw everything much darker. Everything was, since.. _. _

His blood froze as soon as he heard a whisper in one of his ears. He wasn't sure why he was so scared, he was already used to having him behind him.

**Look, look, look.**

The curly headed boy turned to a group of teenagers, as if someone had controlled his movements. What  **he** was making him see was how people threw rocks instead of snowflakes at poor, much smaller students, the same size he was him.

**Isn't it tempting to throw a huge rock in the direction of their stupid heads?**

_ Yes... that sounds so good. Sounds great, I could do it right now and leave. I could... _

_ No. No. _

A laugh begins to echo through the place, and is nothing like that of the beautiful children with happy lives. Harry quickly stands up and starts walking quickly towards the exit.

Even when escaping the situation, he knows that he cannot escape from  **him** when he feels the footsteps on his heels. He can never escape his shadow, not even dead.

_ And lately he doubted wanting to. _

Already the fresh air crashing into his face when leaving doesn’t feel good, there seems to be a kind of fog wherever he looked, and the beeping in his ear didn’t stop. He was going crazy, he was dying slowly and didn’t know if there was any way to feel good when having him by his side. It was like an uneasiness, even his presence literally caused rejection.

Why did he feel so connected to him? Why does he feel he doesn't want to go back to the way it was before? What’s wrong with his head?

When he least realizes he has arrived at his house, his eyes are overflowing with tears and he doesn’t hesitate to lean against the front door, cover his face and burst into tears. The only thing he has been doing lately is crying, and it doesn't relieve him as it did before.

**Everything changed.**

He feels a presence in front of him and hands larger than his pulling his away from his face. The figure of  **Louis** is in front of him, the touch of that hand holding his chin burns slightly, but he ignores it because he feels like his heart beats faster and a little color returning to his face.

—The least I want in this dump is my favorite boy crying. —He whispered calmly, although he didn't look like that at all. His eyes were more open than normal, a slight red coloring them.  _ Angry, he was angry. And when the Devil gets angry… _

_...nothing good can happen. _

—I’m sorry. —Harry says quickly, sipping his nose and allowing the king of the underworld to wipe his cheeks slowly and delicately.  _ It's amazing how the most harmful person in the world can make him feel more cared and safe than ever. _

—Was it because of what I put in your head? —He brought his lips to the wet cheek of the child and left a soft kiss. Again his touch burned. —They deserved it, I'm the karma of the idiots, Harry. You must understand.

—Yes, I understand.

He moved away a little and was quite close to the reddish and thick lips of the curly one, almost touching them. Harry could feel his soul go away little by little.

—...I think it's time for a shower,  _ favorite boy.  _ —He whispers, smiling - _ to the child's surprise _ \- sideways as he walks away. He has already gotten used to him calling him that way, but he isn’t able to stop from blushing like the first time.

After Harry nods, the archangel moves to the side and the mundane walks towards the basement door, ready to go down the steps.

A slight dizziness causes everything to become more blurred. A melody is heard, screams and cries give him a headache before staggering and falling, hitting his head hard and leaving him in full darkness.

_ Finally. _

His eyes opened slowly. They were too heavy and his whole body hurt. There is a more noticeable void in his chest, and the uneasiness is not present. It's when he notices it that his eyes open.

The hospital... again.

God. People probably already knew him there.

He had something injected into one of his arms, a bandage on one of his wrists, which hurt like hell that he would surely go to, and his mother sitting in a chair next to him. It's when he takes a deep breath that Anne gasps low, relieved, and gets closer, holding Harry's healthy hand.

—Love.

The curly boy coughs. His throat is a little dry. —M-Mom?

—Sh, take it easy. —She smiles sweetly at him, trying to look calm as she begins to stroke his curls. —You're fine. You got hit hard, but you're okay.

—What happened?

—You fell down the stairs. —Anne says, and her eyes fill with tears. The guilt eats away at Harry.

—Oh. How long did I sleep?

—It's been a day, baby. — _ Wow _ . —I guess they'll let you go today, in a couple of hours. We'll go to the cabin, and during the trip we'll play whatever music you want. —Harry was so grateful that his mother wanted to put him in a better mood with whims. He couldn't help but smile weakly, not much as he was in pain. —I'll bake some good stuff, and you'll eat while I tuck you in your blanket, and you'll be fine. Okay? —Harry nodded slowly as his eyes filled with tears. —Does anything hurt?

My heart.

—My head hurts, my face hurts. My torso, my knees and especially my wrist.

—You have a lot of bruises, Harry. And your wrist is broken. You must take medicine.

—Dad and Gemma?

—They're outside. Your father wanted to see you, I'll send him in. —She leaves a kiss on Harry's forehead before she stands up.

—Mom, can Dad get me some water, please?

—Sure, honey. —And she walked out.

He waited, staring at the ceiling. He was afraid, but he was trying to be brave. A day had passed without Louis, and since he was better physically -  _ well, not so much _ \- and mentally, he could think that clearly the Devil was right.

—Hey, Hazz. —He blinks and notices his father entering the room with a slight smile. Harry just smiles weakly as he watches Des sit in the seat next to the bed. He sighs. —How are you feeling?

—I'm alive. —Harry answers, again getting serious.

—That's good. I talked to the doctor, you'll be able to leave in a few hours. —Finally some good news. Harry nods, relieved. —You want us to go to the cabin? Because if you're sick and you don't want to, you can tell me. And we won't.

That was a really nice gesture from his father. For the first time in a long time, he felt that someone would listen to his opinion. With a slight smile, he shook his head.

—No, no. It's okay, I want to go. I think it'll do me good to clear my head a little.

Des nods. —Oh, here. —And Harry hadn't noticed the glass of water in his father's hand either. Slowly he sits down, refusing the man's help, and taking the glass with his healthy hand, he drinks it all. He returns it to his father and stretches a little. —He told me.

Harry looks at Des again. —What? Who?

—Him. The red-eyed man. —He says. Harry's out of breath, or at least he feels like he is. He gets scared when others talk about Louis, because he doesn't know what to do or what to say. His father is staring at him, in a neutral way. —He looked for me, he knew I was upstairs when you arrived. He told me what I should do, and I brought you to the hospital.

Harry swallows hard as tears escape his eyes and flow slowly down his cheeks, watching his father with great guilt. He squeezes his lips and nods slowly, looking down and swallowing hard again.

—Thank you. —He says in a low, raspy voice.

His father moves his chair closer to his bed and leans over, staring at him. —Why are you crying? —Harry slowly shakes his head. Those questions only make him want to cry more. —Harry... son, I need you to listen to me. —Harry watches him after he cleans his face. He feels terrible. Not only is it the guilt, the fear, missing Louis, but his whole body hurts, and he feels alone. He misses Fionn, he misses Gemma. —I learned my lesson, and I'm not going to judge you. —He pushes the curls out of his son's face. —The day I went there, before that, you told me a lot of things.

—I’m so-

—No. —Des interrupts. He doesn't want an apology. —You told me a lot of things that were true, and it did something to me. Pretty soon I started thinking the same way you did, you opened my eyes and I felt disgusting. —He confesses. —I knew it wouldn't change from one minute to the next, but I could try. I could start, and the beginning of that was to apologize to you. Soon I was out of the house, back inside. And then I fell, and I couldn't get out anymore. And I know it wasn't like that here, and it's hard to forgive me, but I haven't seen you for three years... and the last thing I want you to feel is that I'm going to tell you something you don't want to hear.

A faint smile forms on Harry's face as the tears continue to fall. —Thanks, dad.

Des nods, squeezing his lips as he stands up. —I just hope you're doing the right thing. —He says. —I'm going to order something for you to eat, I'm sure you're hungry. I'll be right back.

Harry nods and, once again, wipes his face as he watches his father leave the room. He sighs, and feels that finally, after a long time, something was right for him, and he had the support he needed. Again he lies down and turns to his side, looking out of the window at the trees around the city. He scowls a little at the sight of a small black figure on one of the tree trunks and sighs as he notices the raven there. Well, at least he's being taken care of.

**_"I just hope you're doing the right thing."_ **

Maybe he wasn't.

But Louis was definitely the right thing in his life.


	21. XVIII. "The Way Down"

The Styles family left for the outskirts of London the next day. Harry had left the hospital a few hours later since he had woken up, but they decided to wait a while, let him rest in his own home, in his room, where the curly boy least wanted to be. He could feel the uneasiness -  _ the normal uneasiness _ \- slowly leave his body, leaving a slight emptiness in his chest which, little by little and without realizing, it was getting bigger.

Being alone, in silence, and curled up in his bedroom bed reminded him of how much he missed Louis, and how much he sometimes hated that he was the Devil. Having him away from him was a slow torture, and he would rather go through any other kind of torture that brought him physical pain than one that only made his heart ache and not stop thinking for a second.

It must have been very clear that he hadn't rested a bit that night, because his whole body was aching, and because he couldn't sleep without talking to Louis first. In addition to his bruises and noticeable dark circles under his eyes, he was carrying a tremendous bad mood that was barely letting him breathe.

His family, who had never seen him that way, so grumpy and rude, decided to ignore him and treat him as usual before going to the car. Anne and Des talked in the front seats, Gemma wrote in her diary, and Harry looked out the window in the back seat.

—It's going to be a beautiful trip, isn't it?

—Yes, honey. —Des replied to his wife, sighing and looking at his son in the rearview mirror. —Harry? Everything okay?

The boy stared at his father's eyes in the mirror, grimly. If he weren't so adorable, he'd probably be scary. Gemma whistled as she noticed that there was no response from him.

—Are we in a bad mood? —She joked cheerfully, still writing in her notebook.

Harry looked back at the window. —Yeah, it happens to people who fall down a staircase and get hurt. —He answered, sarcastically.

His sister shrugged. —Everyone knows what they're getting into, right?

And Harry didn't understand, really didn't understand what was going on. Maybe he missed Louis too much, maybe he needed his presence, maybe not. Maybe he was sick of what was happening to him, of the family charade he was carrying around and how no one wanted to admit it, or how his father was trying to give him his trust when he had been a piece of shit for so many years. He didn't know what it was, not really, but that caged anger in his chest made him slowly turn to his sister and give her a crazy look.

—You’re dead. —He just said, a little hoarse because of the anger he was carrying. The teenager looked at him as Anne turned around, outraged at having heard her son.

—Harry Edward Styles! What on earth is the matter with you!? —Harry watched her out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't take his eyes off his sister. —Look at me when I'm talking to you! —He finally did. Mother and son exchanged glances. —I don't know what's wrong with you, but I don't want you saying things like that to your sister again, especially not in that way. Do you hear me?

Harry blinked quickly for a few seconds, looking at Gemma again, who looked uncomfortable and scared as she moved away from her younger brother. The latter began to feel a tight knot in his throat, because he had realized that he had frightened his sister, but he was tired of apologizing without getting anything good in return. His eyes began to fill with tears and he slowly nodded at his mother's last question, turning back to the window and curling up, watching the landscape and the raven that followed.

—Okay, okay. Don't yell at him, Anne. —His father intervened. —And Gemma, don't make jokes. His body hurts, he hasn't had a good rest. I don't want you to talk to him, do you hear me?

The woman seemed to realize how rude she had been in a situation where she clearly shouldn't have been and turned again to look at her son. —I'm sorry, baby. —She said. Harry didn't answer, he just let his tears fall and stared out the window. Anne turned around for a few seconds, taking a blanket before she looked at her son again and carefully laying it on him. —Try to get some rest, okay? —It was the last thing she said before she turned around again.

The car moved silently, and Harry finally fell asleep.

—Hazzie? Harry, we're here.

The teenager's eyes slowly opened, noticing that it was dark. The sky was overcast and it was so, so, so cold. His father, who had awakened him from outside the back seat door, helped him down very carefully, still keeping him wrapped in the blanket, and helped him into the cabin. That cabin that brought back thousands of memories and feelings, good and bad.

His mother helped him walk from the front door because Des had gone back to the car with Gemma to get everyone's bags, which were in the trunk. His aunt Jacky welcomed him into her arms, trying to put on one of her best smiles. Harry hurted so much that he could hardly return that sweet and warm hug.

—Look how beautiful you look, Harry. —She said, pulling him away from her body and leaving a kiss on the forehead of the curly boy, who closed his little eyes just for those seconds.

—I'm pretty beat up.

—That doesn't stop you from being beautiful. —The woman answered, and then greeted Anne.

Harry looked at Joffrey, his uncle, who gave him a slight smile and also wrapped him in a hug, telling him how happy he was to see him. He looked downcast, hollow-eyed, and had even lost weight. They had a little conversation where they asked each other how they were, and where both lied terribly. Their cousins were at one end of the room, both sitting on a couch and avoiding Harry's gaze, completely serious. Harry decided not to greet them, for their sake and his.

After Des and Gemma got the bags inside they started deciding which rooms the children would sleep in. There were five, and with two already occupied, Joffrey suggested that his children slept in the same room, and that Gemma and Harry stayed with the other two. Jacky announced the time for dinner and everyone went to their respective seats, serving themselves a warm plate of noodles with sauce.

It was time to pray, Joffrey and Jacky held hands, trying to somehow show support for each other. The older of the Styles brothers watched the younger.

—Des? Aren't you going to start?

Des sighed and shook his head, smiling weakly. —...Not anymore. Someone start for me. —Honestly, he seemed uninterested in the subject.

After an uncomfortable silence everyone closed their eyes and Jacky began to pray, asking for the well-being of his family, for being on the right path, apologizing for whatever it was that made his son die while her voice broke slightly. Harry opened his eyes and bit his lower lip, between guilty and uncomfortable as he watched his aunt out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't stand that which burned in his chest, that wouldn't let him enjoy a simple dinner. He wasn't even hungry. He took his gaze to the rest of the family, and wasn't so surprised to notice that his father was staring at him. They exchanged glances until Jacky finished, and then they looked at their dishes, starting to eat.

Everyone was talking to each other, and the only ones not talking were Harry and Des. The curly boy understood why. He knew that his father noticed how uncomfortable he looked at the mention of his cousin, and he probably suspected.

Finally they finished, and all decided to go to their respective rooms due to the tiredness of the trip and low spirits. Minutes later the cabin was completely silent, the only thing you could hear was the wind outside. It was freezing cold. Harry was looking in his bag full of clothes for his long-sleeved white shirt and baggy pants. Despite wearing his white shirt, burgundy sweater, black pants and kickers, he was too cold. Honestly, he couldn't wait to get dressed and get under the covers.

He yawned and walked to the single sofa in the corner of the room, trying not to trip since the light was off. He was going to sleep anyway. He left his bag on the sofa and bent over to close it. A recognizable uneasiness began to form in his stomach and he froze for a few seconds, trying to figure out if it was real. Slowly he began to straighten up and took a deep breath before he began to turn around. A dark silhouette, taller than him, appeared in front of him, and he could see those blue eyes with a quarter of red, which were staring at him.

It was the Devil. He was coming and not for him, rather, just for him.

They exchanged significant looks before Harry tried to swallow the knot in his throat. The king of the underworld took another step forward.

—Lou... —Harry was able to let go, holding back tears, just admiring the piece of art in front of him.

Louis brought his ringed hand to the curly boy's cheek and slowly caressed the bruise there, erasing the pain but unable to erase the mark. He ended by slowly sighing, while staring at his little boy. He noticed that the beeping had disappeared again.

—I've confirmed a doubt that dwelt in me. —He said. Harry thought he was dying when he heard his voice. It would probably sound very exaggerated, but two days had been two eternities. He couldn't go on without the one person who made him feel alive, even though he was the reason he might die. —I can't go long without seeing you. —He confessed, and tears began to stream down Harry’s cheeks as he smiled weakly. Seconds ago, before he felt that uneasiness in his stomach, he was having the worst days of his life, but the touch, the presence and the words of his husband changed everything. —My favorite boy missed me?

Harry laughed short and quietly. —I missed you. —He said with his voice completely choppy, still smiling as his tears fell and his chin trembled slightly; clear signs that he wanted to cry hard.

The Devil grinned arrogantly. —A lot?

—A lot, with all my heart.

His husband lets out a whistle before getting closer, wrapping his strong arms around the shorter boy's waist. —That’s a lot. —He whispers, and rubs his lips with his boy's. —I needed you so much, kid. Did I mention that time in hell is different? For me, it's been months since I've seen you.

—It's been two days here, but it felt like years. —Harry answers, and he doesn't understand why, but his body starts shaking uncontrollably.

Louis notices that and leads his boy to bed. He knows how helpless he felt, the fear he had of being hurt again and the guilt he carried in having to talk to the family of the asshole he killed. In spite of everything, he had been very brave, but he deserved a break, he deserved someone to contain his crying and fill him with kisses.

The Devil believed that Harry deserved everything.

Once he had put him to bed, he sat down on the side and looked at his small body before starting to undress him. Every piece of clothing he removed went to the floor, and his hands traced the damaged skin of his boy, healing the pain of every blow. He gently kissed his tummy as he took off his sweater and unbuttoned his shirt, healing the pain in his rib and the wrist that had been broken and was slowly getting better. He ended up getting on top of him, covering him with his body and delivering soft kisses to his neck. The fragility, sweetness of these, and the heat that emanated from the Devil's arms wrapped around his body made him inevitably begin to cry painfully and silently.

Louis simply kept him warm in his arms, quieting him with low "shh" near his ear, leaving a few kisses in his ear, as if he were a baby. He was his baby. He pulled his face away from the boy's neck and gave him a soft kiss on his lips before sitting down again, just to take the sleepwear that was stretched out on the end of the bed and start slowly dressing him. Once he finished, he lay down beside his husband and made a movement with his hand, causing the blankets to reach him, covering both their bodies.

Harry sipped his little nose. —I missed you so much. —He said.

—I know. —The Devil responded after drawing him against his body. He brought his index finger and thumb to the chin of the curly boy, lifting his face and kissing his lips slowly and deeply, eager to feel him more.

The child's face remained still because of the grip on his jaw, but he moved his lips, trying to follow the Devil's pace, and the way his tongue caressed his own. He felt the tingling in his belly, the butterflies fluttering in his belly at how exquisite that kiss was. It was like tasting the forbidden fruit. He loved the way the entity took initiative, possession. He gave him what he wanted, what he needed. The minutes went by and they felt it was time to let go a little, even when it wasn’t what they wanted. They stared at each other after a few seconds.

—What did you do the time I wasn't here? Were you a good boy? —The last one he asked in a mocking way. He wouldn't care if his kid was bad once in a while, he just didn't want to see him sad.

Harry sighs and looks down, embarrassed and pouting with his lips as he begins to look at the fingers of his hand, moving them. He's embarrassed. —I was... in a terrible mood.

Louis whistles again, satisfied. He would have loved to see that, since he always saw his boy being sad, or neutral, or asking for forgiveness.

—That must have been fun.

—Well... I told my sister to consider herself dead when she bothered me, and I was rude to my parents. I didn't answer their questions, I kept quiet and grunted at everyone. —He says, and blushes.

Louis leaves a kiss on the boy's cheek. —That's my favorite boy.. —He says, and holds Harry, leaving him on top of his own body as he lowered his hands to the child's buttocks, squeezing them. —You must have looked so fucking hot. —He says before giving him a chaste kiss on the lips and leaving his nose pressed against the blushing cheek of the curly boy. —The Castrati?

—They don't talk to me, they're in mourning and they know I have something to do with it. —The Devil snorts at that and seems to want to have his say, but Harry decides to change the subject quickly. —What did you do?

Louis reverses the positions, leaving his husband under his body, staring into his eyes. —I had some business to take care of. Mostly, I looked for the thing that wants to hurt you.

Harry tensed up immediately. It made him nervous that there was something after him, and to hear about it.

—Did you find it?

—I'm close. It's a demon.

Harry flutters his eyelashes, completely surprised. A demon? What did a demon want with him? Why did it want to harm him and kill him?

—Oh… oh, wow.

—I tortured many, and no one knows what their name is. Apparently, it works alone. It doesn't talk to others, and it's been on earth too long to recognize it. I went looking for your friend.

—Fionn? —His heart began to beat very fast, fearing the worst.

—The other one.

—Liam.

—I've been watching him. I don't feel any presence with him, and if there was, it hasn't shown up in days.

Harry knew that Louis had been watching Liam because of the boy's suspicions, and it seemed pretty obvious. Was it possible that he was wrong? And if he wasn't, why would he do it? Why would he summon a demon and make a pact?

—Maybe I was wrong. I mean... Why would Liam summon a demon? —He decided to speak his mind. Maybe Louis could help him resolve his doubts.

—I can't find an answer. However, why would you invoke the king of the underworld? —Harry remains silent. It was true. No one was what they seemed. —You see, we're not what we appear to be.

He couldn't help but laugh silently at the fact that they had thought the same thing. Was he the Devil's soulmate?

That pushed him into an inconclusive pond. Unanswered decisions or thoughts, all related to his future and his husband. 

—Lou...

—Mh. —He was too busy starting to trace wet kisses on the skin of his favorite boy's neck.

—You, well... —He's nervous. He looks down when Louis walks away a little and watches him, intrigued. —...This is serious.

—This?

—Us. —Louis keeps quiet, wanting to hear more. —I... I mean, you... Have you thought about the future?

—I don't think about the future.

—O-our future. The two of us, together.

The Devil lies down again beside the child and draws him to his chest, taking his hand which was wearing the ring he gave him, and begins to kiss his knuckles.

—I haven't thought about it, but I guess I told you a little bit about it when I gave you my ring. —He says. The younger boy looks up, and they stare at each other. —“You'll be mine forever. No one will dare touch you, belittle you in my presence, forever and ever.” —He can't help but smirk. —Amen. —He jokes.

Harry laughs softly and quietly, with a gleam in his big green eyes. —You remember.

—Of course. It was the day I declared your throne next to mine.

That made him a little self-conscious, and maybe he got scared. It was strange, strange and very serious to have a throne in hell itself. He couldn't regret it, there was no going back.

—Scared, favorite boy?

—No. I... Will I have to go to hell to be with you?

—No. You'll only go to hell when you want to.

Harry nods slowly, but seconds later realizes what his husband said and stares at him, motionless.

—...What?

—As you heard.

Could he... go to hell and back? Without dying? To real hell? Nerves began to settle in his stomach, and curiosity grew in his chest.

—If I go... —He spoke carefully because he was thinking about the consequences. —...could I come back?

—Of course, you're not dead.

—Oh. —He remains silent as he watches Louis kiss his palm. —Would you allow it? I mean... Would you let me go?

The Devil stops doing his thing and stares at Harry. He looks intimidating and even a little scary. Maybe it's because the answer he's giving isn't what he really wants to say. —I would never forbid it, but I don't think it's a good idea. There is a lot of purity and innocence in you, seeing that could affect you, even more knowing that people you knew are there, or that your useless progenitor was there for a while. I feel like the guilt would eat you up.

_ The guilt is already eating me up.  _ —I want to go. —He answers, decided.  _ Partly, I deserve it. I deserve more guilt. _

They stare into each other's eyes for a few long seconds. Harry knows it's not what Louis really wants, but he also knows that part of him wouldn't refuse him.

—Get dressed.

They get out of bed. Harry basically runs to get dressed while Louis turns his back to him, looking out of the window of that room and into the backyard where he had seen his boy a long time ago.

—Take another piece of clothing. —He tells his husband, who has already finished dressing in the clothes he was previously wearing.

Harry arranges his curls before looking around. —Anything? —Louis, still turned away, nods. The curly boy turns and looks in his bag for anything. He finds a sock. —Uhm, literally anything? —He turns again, and his breathing stops when he notices that his husband isn't there. He frowns a little and takes a few steps forward, with sock still in his hand. —Louis? Lou... —The uneasiness was still in his stomach. The Devil was there. He turned again and startled as he bumped into the body of the latter, bringing his free hand to his own chest in fright. —You scared me.

—The sock will do. —Louis answers, as if nothing had happened.

—Why did you leave? —Harry instinctively looks down, and notices that the Devil is holding a knife in his left hand. Harry tensed up immediately. He didn't think Louis would hurt him, but would they hurt someone else? —W-Why do you have that?

—It's not as easy as you think, you have to mix your blood with mine. —Harry keeps staring at him, a little doubtful. —I think it's a great idea if we stay.

Seconds later, once again, the curly boy refuses that proposal. —No, I want to go..

Again they exchange glances in silence before Louis holds out his hand. Harry has a little flashback in which he took the Devil's hand and they danced in the light of the red moon. —Follow me. —He says after Harry takes his hand, and they start walking.

The entity walks around the house as if he knew it, and Harry assumed it was because he had checked to see if anyone was awake. That's when they got to the top of the stairs, but they stopped there. Louis stood in front of Harry and unbuttoned one of the sleeves of his shirt, lifting it and leaving part of his arm with tattoos visible. With the knife, without even a second's hesitation, he cut a little part of his arm.

—Louis...

—You have to cut yourself. —He says as he finishes, and takes Harry's arm carefully, staring at him. —Don't stop looking at me. —Harry nods and obeys. He can feel the edge cutting through some of the skin on his arm, and he can feel the blood coming out, but he doesn't feel pain. —It's gonna burn when you stop looking at me.

Harry does it right away, without even assimilating it. The burning starts to sting painfully in his arm and he grimaces slightly, but he manages. He has to. Louis, still not letting go of his boy's arm, attaches the cut on his arm to the cut on his own arm, combining the bloods. The Devil says a few words in an unintelligible language, it sounds soft but disturbing, and his eyes are slowly getting darker.

Finally, he quietens down and moves his arm away, taking the sock of his boy and getting behind him, covering his eyes with the garment. —You're going to start going down the stairs slowly. There are only twelve steps, and from the sixth I'm going to take your hand, so hold it out. —He says, taking one of the child's hands to place it on the staircase railing, and stretching out the other arm to take it. He walks away and down the stairs, taking his position on the sixth step. —Don't be scared by whatever you're feeling, and once we're there, don't leave my side. Got it?

—Got it. —He repeats.

—That's my boy.. —The Devil compliments him as he rolls down his shirt sleeve and buttons it up again. —Start.

Harry takes a deep, shaking breath before he slowly starts to come down. Every time he descends a step, Louis says something in that incomprehensible language, it sounds as if he is counting in the most terrifying way he has ever heard. His hands begin to tremble and he loses count, but he knows he has reached the last step because the Devil is holding his hand.

Both continue to go down, and Harry resumes counting, ignoring what Louis continues to whisper. He begins to feel tingling in his tummy when he notices that the twelve steps have already been taken, and they keep going down, and down.

It was strange.

At first it felt as if a wall of fire was inches away from him and the heat barely let him breathe, then he began to hear whistles and voices that became louder and louder, unbearable. The beeping slowly increased in both his ears until he was hearing only that, and finally silence came. He began to feel cold, and six steps later he finally stopped. Only his shortness of breath could be heard.

A loud beeping sound made him jump into place, followed by something that sounded like heavy doors of pure iron opening. He feels the Devil letting go of his hand and swallows hard as the blindfold is removed.

He blinks for a few seconds and looks at something he had heard before, but seeing it was completely different. The room was somewhat narrow and quite long, completely white and with lights that blinked a little. It looked like a hospital. A long queue running sideways to the end of the room, people of all ages, even children over eight, pale, rotten and neutral, staring straight ahead and taking only one step forward. A gruesome laugh could be heard in the distance.

—We arrived just in time to see the line move. —Louis says entertained, already beside Harry. They look at each other, the Devil is still with his eyes red and his pupils very dilated. He looks scary, but he still directs a charming smile at his husband. —Welcome to hell.

His... Second home?


	22. XIX. "Home, Bittersweet Home"

That cold place, the lack of life and the remarkable cruelty made him have more than two shivers in less than five seconds. Unable to help himself, he moved closer to Louis, taking his arm.

—There's nothing to be afraid of. —The Devil said. —Partly, this is your home. —And he started walking with his boy holding on to his arm.

He walked with his head held high among all those lined up people, receiving silence and no looks, respect for being the king of that whole place. Harry avoided watching some people banging their heads against the wall, out of their minds. How long had they been there, just standing, waiting for something worse? Many of them seemed to be rotting, with their skin falling off their bodies.

There was a man a few feet away, at the beginning of that whole line. As the curly boy walked and looked around, he could hear the low voice of the man making completely sarcastic and cruel comments. "Is anyone thirsty?" "Don't you think they're taking too long? What do you say we clap our hands?"

—Azazel. —Louis says as they come to the front of the line, and Harry tries not to be surprised at how chilling his voice sounds; authoritative, demanding, too cold and dry.

The pale man in his forties, who immediately stopped laughing and turned to the Devil, making his completely black eyes visible, began to look frightened and even weak.

—Yes, my king? —He answered, and out of the corner of his eye observed the child standing beside the king of the underworld, embracing his arm.

Louis remained unexpressive and spoke out decisively. —I want you to bow. —He said. The demon immediately did so, placing himself in front of his king. —Bow to your new prince.

The demon looks up, confused at first, but immediately crawls in front of the child, bowing to him. —My prince.

Harry watched the demon leaning over his feet with his green eyes wider than usual. It seemed strange to him, because one of those things was his nightmare, one of those things was following him and trying to kill him. It seemed strange to him, unreal but, damn it, it was real. That a demon was bowing to him and calling him "Prince".

—Hi... —He said, and he felt stupid.

Louis rolled his eyes without anyone seeing him. —Stand up. —He ordered. The demon did so immediately and took a few steps back. —He will come here when he feels like it, and I hope for everyone's sake that he will be treated as he deserves, or you will have twice as much suffering. —He says as he watches all the people lined up, who slowly went from being undead to hyperactive undead, with obvious nerves at the presence of the king of the underworld. —Capiche?

—Of course, Your Majesty.

Louis moves his arm, extending it towards Harry, who grabs the Devil by the wrist with both hands, distracted as he looks around. —Continue with your work. —He tells his servant, and takes a few more steps, opening a door at the side of the long, somewhat narrow room. It's tall, iron, and sounds heavy when Louis opens it without a bit of force. He guides the boy through first, and then he goes inside, closing it behind him.

Both are silent, Harry blinks because the light has dimmed even more. It seemed as if he were in a long corridor of pure dirt, with a few torches shining along. There was wailing in the distance, crying. Louis stood in front of him, and the two of them stared at each other to confirm that the child was in good condition. He gave his husband a nod, and the king of the underworld grabbed him by the wrist before he began to move forward.

Harry discovered that that corridor had many corners that led to more corridors with more corners. He saw some doors, and he assumed that people were locked inside, because many were begging to get out. A knot slowly formed in his throat. Could that have been his father? His cousin? Parker Jenkins? Could it be worse? Because he was starting to notice that nothing was better in that place.

His voice didn't come out, he didn't want to say a word, even when he was dying of curiosity. Where was Louis leading him?

At the end of the corridor, another door came up, one just like the previous one. The entity opened it and prompted the child to come in first, which he did. His hands were shaking.

That room was huge, round, with very high walls, as well as the very high ceiling, all gray. There were huge double iron doors everywhere, the floor was smooth, and in the middle of all this room, elegant black stairs led to a place in the basement.

The ringed hand went to the child's lower back, gently guiding him towards the stairs.

—What are all those doors? —He said, looking around. He was glad his voice had come out.

—Different corners of hell. —He simply replied, and they both began to descend the stairs.

They were spiral-shaped, and at first glance they looked very long. However, it didn't take them that long to reach a huge door. It looked just like the others, only gold-plated. Louis moved his hand away from his lower back before opening the door with both hands and stepping aside for Harry to go in first.

To say that he was amazed was an understatement. The place was spacious, tall and very elegant. The ivory-colored floors were shiny, the walls were a dark burgundy. There was a big fireplace, which was lit. Only one wall was occupied to the top with books, notebooks, things that looked completely important. In the middle of the room there was a small step that led to a small, round, higher floor. In the middle of the room there were two thrones: one with a huge black back and a smaller one on the side, the same color. The room was lit by some candles in small candleholders on the walls, also in a rather large one on the ceiling, and because of the distance it kept a soft, dim light. Perfect.

But at one side there was a desk with a burgundy seat with a fairly high back, too. On the desk there were papers all neatly arranged, except for two and a folder that was on top.

—...Wow. —He could merely say. Louis, who had been watching him since they entered the room, smirks slowly. He had never been intrigued to see anyone get excited about hell, about his specific place, where he ran everything. Yet there he was. —This... is very nice. —He admired all the books on the shelves of the huge library that occupied one wall. —Have you read them all?

—They aren't just books, there are books from other universes, and files with contracts from important people. —He said, starting to walk to his desk. He could leave Harry now and all because they were in a safe and quiet area for the boy.

—Wow... Are there really other universes?

—Yeah. Parallel worlds, too. They'll discover it in the near future, you'll probably be around to see it. —What Harry felt after that was excitement, and chills. Being with the Devil, he didn't remember that he might die. After the Devil finished looking at one of the papers on his desk, he went over and held out his hand. —Would the prince like to sit on his throne?

Harry batted his eyelashes quickly for a second, surprised and looking back at the thrones. Yes, he had seen both but, for some reason, it didn't cross his mind that one was his.

—I really do have a throne... —He said, unbelieving and accepting the hand of the Devil, who immediately led him in that direction. They went up that little step, and he helped his boy to sit down. The latter at first sight thought that sitting on one would be too uncomfortable, but it even seemed padded without being so. It was strange. He couldn't help but smile a little. —This... isn't how I imagined it.

Louis finishes settling into his throne, staring at him. —No? What did you imagine?

—Well, not recently, but before I met you I imagined hell... you, completely different. —Louis continues to stare at him, waiting for him to continue to express himself. —Well, I imagined you, you know... —He moves about on his throne, beginning to blush and very ashamed, no longer looking at the king of the underworld. —...like some kind of red monster, with whiskers, a tail, horns and a trident. —Louis slowly shakes his head, with a little smirk. —I’m sorry.

—No, it's funny. It's completely different.

—Well, yeah. You're... you're very pretty. —He says, blushing. Louis looks at him.

—I am. —He says, expressionless. —And so are you.

The curly boy looks down, slowly shaking his head. —Thanks. —He says quietly.

—You shouldn't be grateful for what you don't feel. —Louis answers. Harry looks up immediately and they stare at each other. —It's okay not to feel beautiful, I provoked that the day I gave "The forbidden fruit" to Eve.

The boy blinks quickly, surprised. —That really happened? —Louis nods slowly. —You were a snake?

The Devil's begins frown, and he allows himself a few seconds to assimilate what his husband had just said. —I think I should read the Bible, so at least I won't be so surprised when you tell me these things.

—I’m sorry, Lou. —He apologized. He hoped he hadn't offended him.

—I wasn't a snake. —He says, standing up and going down the little step, walking to his desk. —It was me, just as I am now. Snakes don't talk. —He says it in such an obvious tone that Harry can't help but bring a hand to his lips, silencing a laugh. —I just persuaded, manipulated.

Harry nods slowly, though he doesn't understand. The Bible said that the Devil was evil, that the Devil did it because he was like that, because he liked to be that way. It said that he did all the evil in the world, and many times he was clumsy, he didn't really think.

However, Louis was the complete opposite. He was beautiful, he was perfect in his eyes. Yes, he liked evil, and yes, he liked to run hell; Harry had seen it in that smile with which he welcomed him to that place.

But he looked smart, calculating, he knew when to strike and when not to. Lucifer, Satan, and his name was Louis. His image had been cruelly ruined, and he didn't know if he deserved it or not. All because the Devil had never intentionally damaged him.

Or maybe he did, but it's been a while.

He looked up, and he noticed how Louis was staring at him. He was no longer so startled, although he shivered when he had his eyes completely red, just as he did now.

—There's a reason why I'm pretty, as you say. —He begins, leaving the papers he had previously taken from the desk, back on the desk and walking to the small step. —I was an archangel, I still am. I used to be God's favorite, and he made me beautiful. That's why I'm so surprised that the religious people think I'm a nutcase, red-skinned and ugly. They know who I was, and who I still am. 

Harry sighs as the Devil, having already climbed the step, stands in front of him and rests his hands on the armrests of the child's throne, leaning a little to stay close to him.

—It's just... sometimes people make things up. Maybe religion used to be honest, and it could be appreciated. Lately I've felt like it's a lie, like I don't know what to believe anymore.

—Are you becoming... satanic? —He jokes. Harry can't help but laugh out loud, looking up to watch him. They brush their noses. —It won't be that long before a multitude of people in different worlds will stop believing in God because of the lies of the church. That's what I tried to show him before he threw me out of heaven, "Don't trust everyone, they won't always be honest. And not all humans will be perfect. They're going to stain your name." He didn't listen to me, and he applied this punishment on me. —He smirks. —He gave me a place, a name, and he slandered me. But guess what? —He stands back just a few inches to stare into his husband's beautiful green eyes. —They're still afraid of me.

Harry licks his lips. —I'm not afraid of you. Is that wrong?

Louis suppresses his smile just a little bit, staring at him once again blankly. —No. —He just says, and bends over, taking his boy's lips in a slow, deep kiss.

Harry savored the Devil's mouth, trembling at the touch of their tongues caressing each other and their breaths mingling. Louis wrapped his arms around his waist, bringing him to his feet and leaving him on his tiptoes. The kiss continued, intensifying more and more. The child's arms surrounded the entity's neck for comfort, and they were ready to go even further, right there in the Devil's office, in hell.

However, Harry had a doubt which kept haunting his curly little head.

He separated from the kiss. —Lou... —He called, and the named one stole another soft kiss. —Remember I was telling you about our future?

—Yes.

—And you said, "Forever and ever", "Until the end of time." —He finds himself gawking, trying to formulate the words well because the Devil keeps stealing soft kisses from him.

—Mh.

—But I'm... I'm human. I'm gonna grow up, get old, die. —He says. Louis stops his kisses, and they open their eyes, staring at each other, expressionless. The entity can smell the fear in his favorite boy. —And that means there won't be a "Forever."

The grip tightens at his waist, and the pupils of the king of the underworld look more dilated. —Don’t say that.

Harry's grieving, he's heartbroken. Shyly and carefully he slips his arms off his husband's neck, and his delicate hands go to the older man's face, caressing him.

—I'm sorry, but it's the truth. —He whispers. His voice is a little bit choppy. His chest starts to hurt. —You know that nothing's good next to me, right?

—Harry, are you really saying that to the Devil? —The named one doesn't avoid smiling weakly. Louis sighs, bringing him closer to the point where their torsos touch. —How can my favorite boy believe something like that?

—I've come to the conclusion that I won't have a happy ending.

—No one has it. Everyone dies, everyone says goodbye. —He answers. It's not what the child wants to hear, but he still nods slowly, accepting those harsh words. —But not you. You're going to be fucking happy with me.

—How?

—If there was a way to live forever, would you do it? —Harry looks up again, a little surprised. —Of being with me, forever and ever.

—Yes.

—I don't think you're thinking about it. —The Devil quickly responds, and it's hard to shove selfishness up one's ass, just to have someone to think about. —Living forever would involve... everything. Everyone you know is going to die, and you'll stay the same age. They're going to notice, and you'll probably have to walk away. Everyone you meet in all the years you live is going to die. I wish I didn't have to tell you, but you have to think about it properly.

Harry sighs, closing his little eyes for a couple of seconds. He felt like his head was going to explode. He opened them again, staring at his husband and slowly nodding.

—I’ll think about it.

Louis smirks slowly. —That's my favorite boy. Come on, time to go back to your real home.


	23. XX. "The Devil's Promise"

It was a beautiful morning in Surrey, England, with the blue sky made up of beautiful clouds and the radiant sun creating the most beautiful landscape. On a bench in an empty park there was this teenager, no more than nineteen years old, with blond hair, blue eyes, pale and very, very neutral. He was wearing normal clothes, except for his T-shirt, which had a logo of some cheap local shop. He watched everything with total tranquility, he enjoyed the singing of the birds and the beautiful view.

—This is what you do? —The teenager looks up slowly to encounter the Devil himself on the side of that bench. —Get into your delusional containers? Worthy of you to use them.

Louis. The most precious archangel, the most realistic and sinful. The big mistake. The Devil. He didn't even look at him, he also looked at the landscape, but he was more used to viewing it, and it was fine, since the king of the underworld had been on earth for quite some time, watching over a certain curly-haired boy.

—I want you to know that Niall Horan has agreed entirely to let me stay in his body, and he will get what he deserves. —The blonde says. His voice is soft, there is no evil, no goodness. It's just quiet, but neutral.

Louis finally looks at him. —I agree. Everyone should get what they deserve.

Niall frowns slightly and tilts his head just a little. —May I ask since when you care about people getting what they deserve, if you mean it in any positive sense?

—It's not about any positive sense, it's about common sense. The good guys should get the good stuff, and the assholes should get shit.

—Even if you'd like the good guys to have the bad, too?

Louis laughed dryly while he smirked at him, arrogantly. —You're the biggest asshole. —He says.

He's never been afraid of him. He'd always confronted him, because he couldn't kill him. He couldn't. The Devil looked forward and sighed, slowly getting serious as he immersed himself in his thoughts.

—What do you think should happen? —Says the sea-eyed teenager, looking straight ahead.

Silence reigns in the place for a few seconds. —Harry deserves to be happy, and I know that's hard to understand, but he is with me. —He says. And it sounds so simple, but it's not.

Even more so since he knows that the idiot inside Niall Horan's body knows everything, and won't tell him.

—And you? —He watches the devil. —Are you happy with Harry?

Louis stares at that teenager's eyes and slowly begins to frown. —Don't give me that soap opera crap. —Niall looks ahead and laughs quietly. —Since when do you ask about my happiness?

—I don’t care. —He answers quickly. —I just wanted to know if it's you being selfish, or if it's you really caring about a human.

Louis laughs dryly, raising his eyebrows a little. —Do you think everyone on this earth thinks of each other? Most think of themselves. —He defends himself. Yeah, he was selfish, a lot of times. Who wasn't? Again silence reigns for a few seconds. —I care about his future. His future is with me, you and I know that.

—No. You don't.

Louis begins to feel anger growing in his chest. Was God rubbing in his face his lack of knowledge? Being self-centered? Or was he just telling him the truth? The Devil looks at him, his eyes have darkened a little and opened wider. He takes a deep breath, and a strong wind causes the clouds to begin to appear slowly, blocking out the sun.

—I want him to live forever, with me. —He says, lower, keeping his tone calm. —And I'm looking for a way.

—Is that why you're here? —The blonde frowns a little. —You think I can give you the way? —The Devil keeps silent, just looking at him. Yes, he did, but he wouldn't say it out loud. The teenager settles down on the bench. —I love my creation. —Louis rolls his eyes at that, and they become a little clearer. —But let's be clear, he chose you.

—And we both knew it would happen, because you pretended not to hear him.

—Because you got in my way. —It gently corrects the creator of everything, again looking at the Devil, whose eyes are dark again. —Louis... —He slowly shakes his head and patiently stands up. —Maybe if you hadn't interfered, I could have saved him from all this. Don't misunderstand my words, but it was because of your selfishness that he is this way.

Was there any way not to misinterpret that?

—It was inevitable not to interfere, you never did anything to keep me from being summoned. I answer when they call, can you say the same thing? What happened to "free will"? Do we shove it up our asses, Father? —He asked sarcastically, standing in front of the blond man, who shook his head.

—Of course not. Harry had, has, and always will have his free will, and what he chooses to do with it, you won't know.

—Don't worry. —The Devil pretends to be disinterested, looking the other way. —I'm gonna get it, whether you want it or not.

—Yes? Why? Because you love him? —Louis' gaze goes straight to the eyes of that vessel in which God took refuge.

—Shut. Your. Mouth.

—You can't love him? Or you don't want to?

—It's none of your fucking business what I do! —He raises his voice, and the bench where God once rested and admired the view burns. Neither seems to be disturbed by it.

—You have to understand that it's also none of your business what he decides to do. —The teenager says after a few seconds. —Whether it hurts you or not, Harry will decide his own fate. You may own his heart, but you don't own his life.

Louis slowly steps aside. The flames reflect in his burgundy eyes. —I'm not and I don't pretend to be the owner of his life. I intend to give him what he wants, and I will. Whether you help me or not. —And in the blink of an eye, he's gone.

The flames slowly die down, the bench turns to ashes, and God looks up to the sky before closing his eyes and letting out a big sigh.

Because what he expected for that human who thought he hadn't been heard was a great drama, a weight on his shoulders.

A job. An opportunity.

The only one to be able to stand next to the love of his life.

That night Louis took the child back to his childhood cabin in the same way. He untied the sock from his eyes, accompanied him to his room, helped him get dressed in his sleeping clothes and lay down on the side. They talked for the rest of the night, sharing kisses and caresses.

Louis told him amusing stories about people he had met in past centuries, confirmed doubts about beliefs that the worldling had, and then informed Harry about more functions in hell.

As such, hell wasn't just one place, but it also had many places. All the doors Harry had seen before he went down the stairs to the Devil's office were different areas, which even led to others. There was "The Pit of Souls," and it was like a sea of fire where people's souls swam, burning over and over, for the rest of eternity.

Another door was over a room where a specific demon used thousands of beautiful scenarios that were in people's minds to torture, making everything quite disturbing.

There was also this part of hell that was called "Nothingness". It wasn't exactly nothingness, but it was based on a dark place, with lightning strikes every five seconds. There were these enormous irons that were held up by who knows what. The demons hung people from their skin with huge hooks, and left them there. No matter how hard they tried to talk, they wouldn't be heard by others, nor could they communicate with each other.

The last one Louis had told him about was "Nightmares". Basically, a room that leads to your worst nightmare, making it repetitive for the rest of eternity.

And there were thousands of other sections, but Harry preferred not to hear any more. The kisses returned, and the curly boy couldn't help but cling to the king of the underworld, who covered him with his body. Their tongues met, they caressed each other and minutes later their bodies were rubbing together.

—Lou... —He sighed and tilted his face as the Devil began to spread wet kisses across the skin of his neck. —I-I want…

—I'll give you anything you want.

A little sound escaped from the child's mouth as his husband sucked on his neck, and a little smile began to grow on his lips because of what he had said.

—A house, far away. —He started.

—Get naked. —The Devil commanded. The boy watched him for a few seconds as he felt the blush creep up his cheeks before bringing his hands to the edge of his shirt, lifting it up to his head, disheveling his curls. —What else?

—That nobody chases us. —He felt the Devil's gaze on his body, the caresses on his waist, the cold of his rings. —I want to be able to give you everything that no one has ever given you, to give you all the love you deserve. —Louis stopped his caresses and looked up, staring at his husband's huge green eyes. Had he really said that? Did he really love him that much? Did he really believe that something like him deserved his love? —And it will be huge. It will be the greatest love anyone has ever felt. —He looks down, embarrassed. —Th-There's no one who feels the way I feel about you, Lou.

Louis' arms encircle the boy's waist better, and he's speechless. It's the first time in a long time that he doesn't know what to say, but it's not the first time he doesn't know how to act.

He follows his instincts. A slow smirk forms on his lips, and he bends down to kiss the boy's lips with too much affection, feeling and depth. He devours his mouth, hoping that the worldling could understand everything that was going on in the archangel's head, although that would probably not be the case.

They finished undressing between kisses, and with the blankets covering them because the king of the underworld didn't want his husband to be sick, he settled down between his legs and pulled his prominent member inside the boy, who gasped a little loudly. He quickly brought one of his little hands to his mouth, and Louis licked his jaw before reaching his ear between kisses over his skin.

—One day we'll be all alone, in our house... —He pushed himself all the way in, completely. The boy bent his little toes. —...and I'll make you scream so loud it will echo in hell. —He took his hand from his mouth to kiss him, drowning out the moaning in his mouth, biting his lower lip.

The pace was slow, and not because he couldn't go any faster, but that night... that night the Devil was making love to him. They were feeling slow, delirious, in every way possible. They were kissing, and they were kissing pieces of each other's skin. Louis would kiss behind his ear, bite his earlobe and squeeze his buttocks. Harry would gently bite his shoulder, hold his biceps and unconsciously move his hips.

Everything was going perfectly. The exquisite pleasure flowed through their bodies, a layer of sweat covered them, the temperature in the room had risen and they were suffocating in the most delirious way. The sheets had crumpled up, the blankets were on the floor when Louis reversed the positions.

He sat down so that the boy could hold on to his neck, and he could lift him by the hips at every rise and fall, helping him. Harry could feel the Devil's glans brushing against his sweet spot again and again. He was dying to climax, but everything was so slow and wonderful that he couldn't afford to go any faster.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later that, seeing the child's legs shaking a little, the king of the underworld again delicately placed the boy under his body, and increased the pace of the thrusting when both of them really needed that tingling sensation.

Harry's lips were pursed, letting out sharp exhalations through his nose and, occasionally, a few low gasps, with his eyes narrowed. He half-opened his lips when Louis' lips went to the skin on his neck, licking, kissing, sucking and biting. It's all too much. The bed begins to creak, he starts to feel the tingling, the delirious pleasure. His back arches, reaching climax, with his body tensing for a few seconds and his essence pouring out of his member, staining both bodies.

The Devil continues to thrust himself into her husband's body, increasing the pace between grunts and insults. Eventually the thrusting slows down, and Harry can feel him filling up his insides.

They embrace, sweaty, sticky. Louis lies down beside his husband and draws him to his chest, making a movement with his hand so that the sheets cover them, and the blanket comes back from the floor, over them. Harry hides his face in the Devil's neck, sighing.

They stay silent for a couple of seconds, just caressing each other's bodies with soft, short kisses.

—Are you going to leave? —Harry asks, without opening his eyes. He feels he's about to fall asleep, but he needs answers.

—Yes.

He opens his eyes and looks up, frowning slightly. He looks worried. Louis can't help but caress his cheek. He looks nice, freshly fucked.

—But... You’ll come back?

Louis kisses his forehead. —Of course. I always come back to you.

And Harry smiles at him before being kissed. Finally he closes his eyes and settles down again, ready to sleep.

It was five a.m. when, embracing the love of his life, he rested.

Two days had passed, Christmas had arrived.

Harry loved Christmas, because there were lights, and snow, and hot chocolate and cookies. He loved everything about it, the traditions they had with his family, the gifts.

But now, at sixteen, he just wanted to lie in his bed, and be kissed by the Devil until his lips could no longer.

Yeah, probably if someone heard his thoughts they'd think it was something disturbing, but that's all he wanted. It was cold, and he needed his husband's warm body glued to his, wrapping him up, covering him. He needed to be loved in every way possible, held, kissed.

And he was in a tremendous mood, because something very strange had happened to him. It was seconds before he woke up, but he felt like it was hours. He thought it was a dream, but he had never seen anything in a dream with so many details. He could see himself, his arms stretched out. He was wearing a black shirt, like Louis'. He knew he was in a hospital, and in front of him, on a stretcher, a little girl with cancer was sleeping.

He knew that girl's name was Chloe, he knew she was five, he knew her whole life.

The scenario changes. Now he's walking towards something that looks like a bed, but he can't see well, because everything is cloudy. He sits down, and the person he can't see well, who is in that bed, is happy to see him.

A shiver, the change in his body temperature, doing something he never thought was good but now... now it was normal. Ordinary.

He woke up, but he went back to sleep. And he didn't have those kinds of dreams anymore, just nightmares. As usual. His cousin was standing on the doorstep of his cabin, and he asked him over and over again why he didn't get him out of hell, why was he bad and didn't help him.

Finally, he woke up.

That morning he had woken up, ignoring the raven that was watching him from a branch of a huge tree, near his window. It overlooked the forest that he had feared since childhood, so he didn't look out the window so much. Anyway, it was funny to be afraid of something that didn't exist and to be married to the king of the underworld. In other words, the king of every nightmare.

He felt a really strange new emotion. He felt a bit of anger because his hands were shaking slightly, and there was sadness in his chest, and a desire to cry. He felt that he knew the reason, but that he couldn’t explain it, and it was what made him angry out of nowhere.

He had prepared a hot chocolate for his sister and for him, it was his way of apologizing. His cousins ignored him when he offered to make them something, and it was fine. He had gone to get some cookies from the small kitchen, ready to go back to the living room where Gemma and her cousins were sitting, talking. He stayed on the other side of the half-open door when he heard his name being mentioned.

—...Harry was affected by all of it.

—Gemma, listen to us. Stay away from him. He's the antichrist. —One of his cousins said. Harry tried not to mentally mock him, he just frowned a little.

—Guys, don't be like that. I understand you've always had a problem with him, but he's an angel. He just... has some issues.

—Oh, yeah? Which ones?

—Well... Mom and Dad don't know it, but, honestly, I think he's on drugs. Sometimes he talks to himself, or he gets in different moods, or says strange things. He also gets sick, we've had to go to the hospital many times.

—It's because he's the antichrist. Gemma, I'm telling you. He is. He's the antichrist, and we know it. He killed Brad.

A stab went through his chest and he had to hold both cups more firmly. They definitely knew.

—...What?

—He did. Right after Brad bothered him, they cut off his... well. You know. And he bled to death. Doesn't that seem like a coincidence to you?

—No. —His sister answered immediately, shaking her head. She sounded a little upset. —Harry would never do that. He... is incapable of hurting anyone.

No, he wasn't incapable.

—It's okay if you don't want to believe us, but it's the truth. And we'll make sure he pays for it.

Harry freezes a bit as he hears the uncomfortable silence in that room. Could his cousins have summoned the demon? Could they want to kill him? He had to tell Louis... Hadn't he?

—You're not going to touch Harry. —His sister immediately defended that threat from his relatives. Harry felt a pleasant warmth in his chest, it had been a long time since he felt that his family was there for him, he just felt that they were sorry for him. —I'll point to you if anything happens to him, and you know everyone will believe me. You know that.

A dry laugh can be heard from one of his cousins. —Bloody women, they're only good for cooking.

It was like something took control of Harry's body. He went into the room where his cousins and sister were, gave the cups to Gemma with absolute calm, and sighed before turning to Ben, who had said that. He would use their fear of him so that they would never again make his sister, or another woman, feel inferior.

—Repeat it. —His cousin looks up at him. Harry begins to feel the uneasiness creeping up on his stomach, Louis was coming, but he was too tense to pay attention. —Tell me again what you told my sister.

—Harry... —Gemma tries to call him, but she doesn't get up. She doesn't think her brother's capable of hitting someone.

—I'm gonna kick your ass. —He's never felt so much adrenaline, so much anger. He was angry. He was so angry!

—Harry! —The named boy turns his face towards his father, who is entering the room. He doesn't look angry, but he looks indignant, surprised by his son's reaction. Normally he would remain silent. —What's going on here?

Harry looks back at Ben, who looks at his uncle in a panic, looking for some salvation. The curly boy looks sideways at the Devil, who is standing in the corner of the room, his hands in his pockets and staring at his favorite boy, smirking.

—I-I'm sorry. Harry, I'm sorry. —His cousin's eyes are starting to fill with tears. He knows he's screwed up, that he could die in seconds, minutes, maybe in a couple of days, and no one would know.

The little boy stares into the eyes of his relative, and his anger turns to rage. Anger at himself, for scaring, for feeling more powerful than others by having the Devil as his husband. Louis slowly erased his smile, because he could feel what his boy was feeling, and it would have been fun if the anger was towards someone else, but he knew it was self-hatred.

Harry immediately walks away from his cousin, passing by his father and climbing the stairs. He hears Des calling him and following him, but he doesn't stop. He's so angry, he wants to hit, break, scream, and more. He arrives at the room where he was staying and doesn't avoid slamming the door. Louis is in a corner.

—Harry.

—Leave this to me. —He says quickly before his father enters the room too, closing the door behind him. 

—Hazz, calm down. Calm down, all right? Your cousin... he's an idiot. And you know it. —This is the first time he's heard his father talk about his family like that. Has he really changed?

Harry stands far away from his father, just staring at him. Louis stands behind him even though his beloved father-in-law can't see him. It's his way of protecting the child without getting involved. Harry had said "no", and although he would have told anyone to fuck themselves before, he respected his husband.

—Listen to me. —Des begins, calmly, raising his hands a little and looking at his son. —You need to calm down, he's not worth it.

—They're... —He shook his head slowly, laughing dryly and silently. —...they made her feel bad.

—I know. And I'll take care of it, but you... this isn't right. I... I didn't want to judge, I told you. There's something going on with you, and I think I know what it is. —Both remain silent as Harry's eyes slowly begin to fill with tears, and a knot forms in his throat. He's not going to cry, he won't. He swallows hard. —Harry, I need you to tell me the truth.

His hands are starting to shake. —What?

—Did you kill your cousin?

—Watch his mouth. —Louis says quickly to his husband, calmly, but he doesn't look that way. His eyes slowly turn red, the discomfort intensifies.

—No.

—Did he kill your cousin?

—N-No.

Des knows. He knows his son is lying, he knows his son would never say yes, because he didn't trust him yet. He shakes his head slowly before he takes a step back. He can't believe it. His sixteen-year-old son wasn't just involved where he shouldn't have been, he was also an accomplice to his nephew's death... and who knows what else.

—How... —Des exhales. This wasn't right. Harry remains silent, with Louis behind him. They both watch Des in the same way, with defiance, anger. Harry has more guilt in his eyes, Louis doesn't give a fuck. —How do you carry something like that on your shoulders? You're an accomplice.

Harry explodes again. Not even Louis can see him taking the clock from the night table and throwing it against the wall, near his father, breaking it into a thousand pieces.

He wouldn't keep quiet now, he'd say everything he wanted to say to that bastard. He had never thought about his feelings, why should Harry think about his? Why didn't Harry get tired of thinking about others, when nobody thought about him?

—Stop making me feel guilty! —He screams, taking a step. The Devil sighs, satisfied to see the old man's frightened face.

—No. Harry, I-

—That's what you always do. You always want to make me feel like everything I do is wrong, even when this wasn't happening. When everything was normal!

—No, no.. I didn't say that. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. —He stands in front of Harry, firmly.

—Right, you're a good person, who cares about not hurting someone before saying things out loud. —He applies sarcasm. Louis thinks that he loves his husband's sarcasm, but this isn't a good time.

—And you? —Des raises his voice a little. —Did you think about things before you did them? 

—I didn't kill anyone. ANYONE. None of this would have happened if you'd been a good father and believed me when I told you that cigarette wasn't mine! If you'd believed me today Brad would just be a jerk trying to annoy me, and you wouldn't have had a heart attack! —He raises his voice more, and he's not afraid. He feels powerful, powerful enough to stand up to his father even though he is shorter than him, and use all his strength to push him backwards. —It's all about you, and your bloody irresponsibility concerning the pitiful role of father you play. If it hadn’t been for your lack of tact and attention I would have been happy. BUT NO! YOU NEVER HAD A LITTLE OF EMPATHY! THE WEIGHT THAT IS ON MY SHOULDERS IS FOR YOU! YOU PLACED THIS RESPONSIBILITY ON MY SHOULDERS AND THAT'S WHY I WILL HATE YOU UNTIL THE DAY I DIE!

Silence reigns in the room for several seconds. Father and son exchange glances, the king of the underworld keeps watching them both, waiting.

—...Harry.

The named one swallows hard and can't hold back the crying. His eyes fill up with tears again and he slowly shakes his head. —Understand that I don't trust you anymore. Just... —He steps back. —...leave me alone, please.

Des leaves the room immediately, feeling the guilt eating at him. He deserved it, he deserved his son's rejection. He didn't know how to accept that his son had treated him well even after all the crap he'd done.

But he wasn't going to give up, he was going to give him time.

Inside the room, Harry exhales sharply before looking down and closing his little eyes tightly because the anger still doesn't go away. He takes a deep breath through his nose before he starts punching his fist into the closet in front of him.

—Enough. —Louis grabs his wrist, stopping him. His knuckles swell almost immediately, there's a little blood in them, and he's shaking.

He never hated himself so much, he never wanted not to feel one thing. He's never been so angry or reacted so strongly. He didn't know what was wrong with him. Could it be that, after all this time, he was really becoming evil? How could he talk to his father like that? Scare his cousin? Thousands of sexist comments in the world, in the church, he had kept quiet all his life, but suddenly it was as if he exploded for all of them today.

He sobs low, almost silently, as the Devil draws him to his chest. His headache is killing him, he can't feel his fingers.

—I just want this to be over. —He has to force himself to speak, because the lump in his throat is killing him. —I don't want to feel this guilt anymore, I don't want to feel anything. Please, I need to stop feeling. I'm going to go crazy. —Louis reaffirms his arms around his waist as he feels his legs begin to fail him. —I don’t need this.

He guides him to the bed and lays him down. He notices how Harry's gaze is lost on the ceiling and he struggles to breathe properly, imprisoned by the anxiety that tears at his chest slowly, cruelly. He takes off his slippers and sweater before lying down next to him and dragging him against his chest.

—Look at me. —He says. Harry looks up and their noses brush against each other. —I meant it. —The child's frowns at those words. —"I'll give you anything you want." And if everything you told me today is what you want, I'll give it to you.

Harry curls up in Louis' arms and he begins to whisper words in that unintelligible language, causing the child to relax, the tears to stop and, little by little, he falls asleep. The Devil takes one hand to the boy's hand, which is hurt, and kisses his bloody knuckles. Little by little, the knuckles are as good as new, without any scratches.

He draws him closer and spends the night stroking his back, smelling his curls, and thinking. He had to be prepared for whatever was coming, because his boy... his sweet boy was breaking.

Harry woke up to the Christmas song echoing from downstairs.  **Jingle Bell Rock** . One of his favorite Christmas songs. He was grateful to wake up like this, but he remembered the situations before he went to sleep and just wanted to keep doing it.

It wasn't until he felt kisses on his chin, and he smiled. He opened his little eyes to meet the king of the underworld, still holding him in his arms.

—Lou…

—I hate Christmas, but that song is not bad. It brings back memories.

Harry raises his eyebrows before he starts rubbing his little eyes. He stretches out but hugs his husband again. 

—Yeah? Bobby Helms sold you his soul, too? —The boy jokes. He prayed it was a joke and the Devil wouldn't end up confirming it.

—No. I remember a certain boy with curls, about five years old, singing this song with bad pronunciations and jumping in the middle of the room. —He says, as if it were nothing. Harry looks up and stares at him. Louis raises one of his eyebrows. —What? I told you, I've watched your soul before it even entered your body, and it's always been mine.

—Yes, but I didn't know you were here that long. —Some memories emerged in the curly boy's mind, but they weren't exact. He remembered a hand, he remembered hiding, playing with someone, laughter and tickling. —And did I see you? —Louis nods.

—You've done more than see me. We can talk about that another day. —And they would. Louis would tell him how adorable he was, how he liked to give hugs, play hide-and-seek, and be tickled. Also the times he'd spoil him with candy and ice cream. —You should eat that.

—...Mh?

Harry turns around when Louis nods, pointing to that spot. On the night table there is a cup containing hot chocolate, and to one side there is a slice of chocolate cake. The boy frowns a little as he sits down.

—Who brought this? —He asks as he carefully takes the cup and blows on the hot contents before sniffing. It smells delicious.

—Maybe Santa Claus. —The Devil says, clearly joking. He sits and leans his back against the wall, watching his favorite boy drink his hot chocolate. It leaves a moustache on his angel's bow, and Louis licks his own lips, tempted to wipe it off with his tongue. —How is it?

—Perfect. —He quivers. Hot drinks and cold weather don't help him, even more so if he's still in his pajamas and not covered. —Wow.

—Are you cold? —Harry nods and carefully leaves the cup on his nightstand, ready to take a blanket. —Better put on your Christmas sweater.

—Lou, I don’t have a Christmas sw... —He stops talking when he looks at the end of the bed, folded, a red wool sweater, with white deers and small green trees. He turns his gaze to the Devil, who is only looking at him in a neutral way. —Who brought that?

—Santa.

—Lou. —Harry can't help but chuckle, cheerful. That takes some of the weight off his shoulders. He takes the soft sweater, pulls his arms through the sleeves and his head through the hole, fitting it to his torso. It fits him, a little big. It's warm. —I have a Christmas sweater. —He says in a sweet, excited way.

Louis holds his hand, and the child ends up in his lap, snuggled up against him. The Devil hands him the cup so that the child can continue drinking.  **Jingle Bell Rock** stops,  **It's the most wonderful time of the year** begins. Harry's eyes glow with excitement.

—Who's downstairs?

—No one. Santa's playing music. —The Devil says. Harry tries to get the fact that his family left without him out of his mind, he really does, because Louis is doing something that is filling his chest with love.

—Lou... —He says after drinking his hot chocolate. He has a moustache again, and the Devil doesn't miss the chance to clean it up himself, with his tongue. He leaves a soft, chaste kiss on his boy's lips, and when they pull away, he has his eyes full of tears, but continues to smile. —...Thank you.

The Devil just runs his thumbs through the little tears that threaten to come out. He's not very good at being thanked, because he's never done anything like this for anyone before.

—Everything okay? —Harry nods, sipping his little nose, still smiling, and leaves the cup on the nightstand. —I hope so. Santa left more presents under your bed, you should see them.

—Now?

—Yes.

And Harry jumps down all excited, kneels on the side of his bed and starts pulling out lots of packages. His gifts were a lot of vinyl from his favorite artists, and some new ones. Christmas socks, a black cover notebook with a feather and ink, books about parallel universe theories he had taken out of his office (he was sure Harry wouldn't reveal anything from the future), more rings and a pocket watch in Roman numerals.

Louis didn't give a fuck about Christmas, Louis didn't even want to know how each person celebrated it, and he had found that out over the years he spent with his, now, husband. Those lights, trees, gifts, good music. Close family, friends.

The Devil would never acknowledge it... but his boy was his family.

His boy deserved everything good in the world. And he would give it to him, starting with light things like this.

And that was a promise.


	24. XXI. "For The Good Times"

**1956.**

_ —Would you like some tea, Mrs. Styles?  _

_ She laughed at the formal tone her little daughter had used to refer to her, and after nodding with a little smile, Gemma Styles pretended to serve tea from her plastic teapot into a small pink cup.  _

_ The day was a work of art. It was neither cold nor hot. There was a beautiful sun, and the two had decided to put a tablecloth on the grass in the backyard and play tea party. Jacky, Anne Styles' sister-in-law, was there too, but a little further away, carefully watching the five-year-old boy who kept running in circles and laughing out loud. _

_ —Harry, darling. —Jacky started, wanting him to stop for a bit, and was about to warn him to stay out, but the curly-haired boy headed for the house in between bursts of breath.  _

_ Anne immediately stood up and looked at her daughter because of the whine she let out. —I'll be right back, honey. I'll just get your brother, while you make me another cup of tea, please. —She pretended to drink everything in the cup and squeal because it was so hot. Gemma laughed before taking the little cup away from her mother and starting to make more tea for her and her bears. _

_ When Anne entered the house, she found Harry running in circles around the sofa, looking behind him from time to time and shrieking with excitement, only to burst out laughing.  _

_ —You won't catch me, you won't catch me! —He made fun of something that wasn't there. _

_ Anne sighed. Her five-year-old son was an earthquake. _

_ The curly boy looked straight ahead and stopped running, looking at something in front of him and shrieking with more excitement before heading in the opposite direction, climbing onto the sofa and getting into a fetal position while hiding his face with his little hands. _

_ Jacky, who was entering the house, laughed when he saw his nephew that way and approached him. —What's wrong with the baby? He's running so fast. _

_ —Harry, honey. Don't run like that, please. —She approached her son and took him in her arms with care. He was hiding on his mother's shoulder. —You can fall and... Who are you hiding from, you rascal? —Her baby giggled before watching his mother with a sweet smile and dimples visible on his blushing cheeks.  _

_ —From his imaginary friend. —Jacky said sitting on the couch. Anne leaves a kiss on her little boy's face before she lets go, and Harry seems to look for something with his eyes before his eyes light up and he starts running again. —He's so cheerful, it's contagious. _

_ —Mommy! —Her daughter was calling from the courtyard, tired of waiting so long. _

_ —On my way, Gemma. —She observed her child. —Hazzie. Baby, Can you pay attention to me? —Harry watches her for just a few seconds before he keeps running and screaming. Anne sighs again. _

_ —Go with Gemma. —Her sister-in-law said, taking the newspaper that was on the couch and settling down on it to start reading it. —I'll take care of him. _

_ —Jacky, don't feel obliged to stay here. Harry can come to the yard, can't you, Harry? —The boy didn't even hear her, now he was hiding behind the sofa, concentrating on not making a sound. _

_ —I don't feel obliged, Anne. I like to watch him play. —She says, and looks sideways at the diary, turning a page when she sees nothing interesting. _

_ —Let me know if you need anything. —Again her daughter calls, and she heads back out into the yard. —Here I am, love! _

_ Jacky sighs before looking at Harry again as he laughs and circles the couch, diving to the floor and grabbing his aunt's leg, closing his little eyes tightly. —You won't catch me, you... you ticklish monster!  _

_ —Who are you talking to, little brat? —His aunt says, and raises her eyebrows in surprise as the child squirms and begins, once again, to run in circles around the couch.  _

_ The woman looks back at the newspaper, and it is minutes later that she notices out of the corner of her eye that the door to the basement, to the little boy's room, is open. It took her only seconds to think about it, and it seems that they had coincided as Harry was running in that direction, not looking ahead, just back, at the supposed thing that was chasing him. _

_ —Harry, watc... Harry! —The child looked ahead only when he felt that where he stepped there was absolutely nothing, and before having a brutal fall down the stairs, the woman saw how the nothing itself pulled the child's white shirt to the opposite side of the fall, leaving him lying back in the living room. _

_ Her aunt immediately erased from her mind that she had seen that when she noticed the pout on her nephew's lower lip, and she approached at a fast pace. —Honey, are you all right? Nothing happened, it was just a scare. _

_ —I’m okay. —The child answers with a shaky voice. He didn't want to cry in front of his aunt. He looked around and stared for a few seconds while his eyes filled with tears. —He's gone... _

_ Jacky doesn't ask questions, he just hugs the boy after he stands up, kisses his cheek and forces him to go to his mother. As she closes the door that leads to the basement, she feels a chill traveling down her spine as she remembers what she saw, and although she wanted to believe that it could have been a miracle, it didn't feel like one. _

_ It felt like a curse. _

**January 26, 1969.**

—Harry. Harry. Hey, Harry. Harry. —Only a few short seconds of silence pass before he gets another popcorn to his cheek. —...Harry.

—Oh, for God's sake. —The one named says, hiding his face in his hands. His best friend laughs softly.

—Harry, this movie sucks. —And he laughs silently again, even though he gets a few "sh" from the front.

Both teenagers were at the cinema, the only one in town, and strangely for a Sunday, it wasn't that crowded. There was a movie that had been out for less than a week called "The Residence". Apparently, almost nobody in town liked it, and that's why there were some free seats at the sides. Harry didn't want to be a bad person, he really wanted to give the film a chance, but he couldn't, and Fionn made it more complicated.

—Fionn, for the love of God, let me watch the movie.

Fionn sighs. He's fed up, bored. Harry looks back at him. —Why are you watching it? You don't like it. —He eats popcorn, ignoring another "Shh".

—Because we've spent money on this, and the popcorn that's falling on the floor. —Harry lowers his voice even more because of complaints. —And I don't think it's so bad, everyone seems to enjoy it.

—They're falling asleep, Harry.

The boy sighs, slowly shaking his head and tucking his curls back, as he had been doing lately. He had changed nothing except his hairstyle and clothing. He had abandoned his suspenders, shorts and kickers. He was now wearing a white shirt with buttons up to the top, long pants up to the waist in black and boots in the same color, which made him only a little taller, and that made him happy. He was going to be tall, one day.

He was beautiful, glowing, but he was still the same sweet, gentle creature he always was. He was still Harry Styles.

Fionn had changed, too. Not only was he much more responsible, he had also had a makeover like Harry, with his hair back and similar clothes, only his shirt had no buttons and was more open at the collar.

Both of them now also met outside of school to go to the movies or to the park with Liam.

A groan came out of the curly boy's mouth at the strong itching of his forearm, over a visible and indecipherable mark, since his mother had taken him to the hospital for some tests, and as they didn't get any answers they decided to rule out the possibility of something serious, adding one where it was due to some kind of allergy to some fabric that was rubbing his skin.

—Are you still itchy?

—I don't know what it could be. —He answers, and stops scratching, because it makes him itch even more.

—Let me see. —His best friend takes his arm, closely watching the area where the child was itching. —Yeah, you're definitely gonna die. —He jokes, making Harry laugh quietly and put his arm away. —Tell you what, we'll go from here to my place, have dinner there, and then I'll walk you home.

It was a good plan.

—Sounds good, but I'm embarrassed to stand up now.

—Harry, I'm not gonna sit here one more second. I need to go to the bathroom, I'm hungry, I'm getting bored.

He accidentally used a normal tone of voice to say that, causing an adult with his wife to turn around three rows in front. —Would you shut your mouth, for God's sake?

—Fuck you.

—Fionn. —Harry scolds, frowning before looking at the adult and putting his hand on top of his friend's. —I'm sorry, sir. We were leaving.

And everything would have been fine if the man had just turned around, but he was pissed off, and he was an idiot. He looked down at the teenage hands, which were on top of each other, and shook his head. —They had to be homosexuals. —He says before he turns around and sits down again.

Some laughter can be heard in the cinema at the apparently funny comment of the adult. Harry notices that his hand is still on top of Fionn's and he quickly moves it away, looking at his best friend with guilt. He didn't mind what people thought about him, but despite knowing Fionn very well, they had never been in a situation like this before.

—I’m so-

—Don't even think about apologizing for holding my hand. —Fionn interrupts him. He didn't care either. —Let’s go. —He says, standing up.

Harry's about to do it, but then he starts to feel that recognizable uneasiness in his stomach.

He notices as if by magic the popcorn of the man who insulted them flies off onto his wife's face, who complains before standing up, shaking her beautiful dress. Everyone is watching that scene before looking up at the screen. The film is framed in a part where one of the characters laughs. There is an irritating whistling sound coming from the speakers, and Harry is the only one who doesn't cover his ears. He felt it for so long, it no longer affected him.

People start complaining and then the screen literally cracks, everything goes dark before the lights in the cinema come on. Everyone is between scared and very confused. Had the sound made the screen crack?

Fionn sits back in his seat, surprised. —Tell me I'm not crazy and you saw that too.

—I saw it. —Harry answers quietly.

—And why are you acting so normal? —Harry simply flutters his eyelashes quickly at that question, watching his best friend, who shakes his head and sighs. —Forget it. Let's just go home.

This time both teenagers stand up. Everyone's coming out of the theater. Fionn goes first, walking down the narrow aisle between the seats. Harry looks around, trying to find Louis, but he doesn't let himself be seen.

A little smile appears on the curly boy's face before he looks for his best friend, leaving that cinema.

They had arrived at Fionn's house, who was very excited, surprised by what had happened at the cinema. It was not long before dinner was ready, and Fionn didn't miss the opportunity to tell his father the story while they were eating.

—And the screen broke in two, just like that. We all had to get out of there. —He said, digging with his fork for more pasta with sauce from his plate, bringing it to his mouth.

—It's a shame, they say the movie's good. —Mr. Whitehead commented, looking down at his almost empty plate. Harry and Fionn didn't miss the opportunity to look at each other with their eyes wide open and a gesture of suffering. That film had been the worst of the whole anecdote. Their best friend's father sighs before getting up from the table. —Harry, I'll be in the living room. You can let me know when you want to leave, and I'll take you home.

—Oh, it's no problem, Mr. Whitehead. I can go by myself. —He says politely.

—I don't mind taking you at all, son. —He just mussed up his curls a little bit before he went behind Fionn's back. —It'd even let me sleep at night. Fionn, do the dishes when you're done. —The named boy complains with his mouth full and grunts when his father pats him on the back with just a little bit of force.

Harry can't help but laugh softly.

—Didn't you think it was strange that that happened? —His best friend says having swallowed the food and drunk some water.

—No, it can happen.

The blue-eyed boy's eyebrows raise. —Yeah, right. It's completely normal for a screen to crack like that. —He says sarcastically.

—It could have been the noise. I don't like to give opinions on things I don't know. —He shrugs and sighs. He was so full, he had never eaten such a huge plate in his life.

—Okay, so let's talk about things we do know. Your birthday. Your 18th, to be exact. —Fionn can't help but smile when he notices his friend blushing. —Are you going to do something?

Harry shooks his head. —No.

—There has to be s-

—No.

His best friend's eyes narrow a little, staring at the curly boy. —Innocent little Harry, not a good liar. You think I don't know you well enough?

_ You'd be surprised. _

—It's nothing. My mommy... mom. —He corrects.  _ Jesus, I'll be eighteen and still call her "mommy" in public.  _ —My mom will do something, for sure. She always does the "surprise party".

—Have I missed any?

—No.

—Well, I will, because I'll be planning my surprise separately. And you're gonna like it. I've already thought about it. It'll be the best present.

Harry can't help but smile, looking down. —Okay. Stop getting me excited. —He receives a somewhat painful and unexpected slap on the forearm from his friend. —Ouch! Why did you hit me?

—Stop scratching.

He didn't even realize he was scratching. —It's itchy. —He excuses himself, unconsciously forming a little pout with his lower lip before looking down at that indecipherable mark. It wasn't that noticeable. —Maybe it's a pimple.

—Maybe it's a fifth nipple.

Both friends laugh before clearing the table between conversations.

Fionn was walking the curly boy to the door while his father walked to the car. Both teenagers look at each other.

—See you at school tomorrow?

—Of course.. —Fionn answers, leaning against the door frame and watching his father sideways as he gets into the car.

—Don't be late, I don't like being alone.

—You're a big boy, now you have to get used to being alone. —He jokes. Harry wrinkles his nose, laughing softly before approaching his best friend and leaving a kiss on his cheek, as always.

Harry would never stop being a child. A little brother to him, not just because of his attitudes or innocence, simply because that is how he will remain for the rest of his life.

—Hey. —The curly boy turns again, raising both eyebrows. Fionn approaches him. —Come here. —He says before he wraps him in a hug. Harry, surprised.

—Since when do you hug me?

—I always hug you, silly.

—Liar. You never hug me out of the blue. —He contradicts the curly boy before he laughs softly. —I know what's wrong with you. You're emotional...

—Shut up.

—Because I'm growing up.

Silence falls for a few seconds.

—...I have my reasons. —Fionn excuses himself. Harry laughs again before he's pulled away from the hug. —Get out of my house, Harry Styles. —He says with a tone of false annoyance.

Harry hears Mr. Whitehead's car horn. —I’ll see you tomorrow, Fi. —He says, still laughing before turning and walking quickly to the car, climbing in.

Fionn just watches them leave from the doorway, sighing. Yeah, he was emotional.

But he was never going to admit it.

Harry had finally arrived at his house. He thanked Mr. Whitehead before stepping down and walking to the door. The uneasiness in his stomach had been present on the way back to the house, and he was anxious.

When he entered and closed the front door, he stood in the doorway when he saw his sister Gemma with her boyfriend, Theo, on the sofa. They had very red lips and somewhat disheveled hair to be watching TV. The three of them watched each other for a few seconds.

—Harry, I didn't think you'd be here so early. —His sister says, smiling softly.

—Yeah, it's just... the movie sucked. —He explains, and nods towards Theo in the form of a greeting, who ignores him. Harry looks at Gemma again. —Mom and dad?

—They went out for their anniversary. They told me they'd be a little late.

—Oh, okay... —An uncomfortable silence sets in before Harry giggles, starting to walk to his room. —I’ll be in my room.

—Good idea. —His sister gives him a grateful smile as Harry opens the door to the stairs and closes it behind him, going down to open the door to his room.

He closed it behind him, turning on the light before turning around. He didn't even have time to see anything, when he was already against the wall, and his husband, the king of the underworld and the person he loved most, was holding him by the waist with his arms. Harry can't help but smile in gawkiness, closing his little eyes to the closeness of their faces.

—How was the movie? —The archangel asks, pretending to know nothing.

—Horrible.

—My favorite part was when I broke it.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle, slowly shaking his head. He felt a little guilty. —You made that poor man ruin his date.

—Oh, I didn't mean to. —The devil says sarcastically, smiling flirtatiously before approaching his face and taking his husband's lips.

Both moved their lips in the same slow, deep beat, tilting their heads to the opposite sides. Harry raised his arms to the entity's neck, and the entity lowered his hands to the boy's thighs, carrying him to the bed.

They continued as usual, but tried to make things less toxic, with Louis just showing up at night until Harry fell asleep, or when something happened to him, although all year long, after Harry's horrible Christmas, everything seemed to be fine. Nothing had gone wrong, nothing was chasing them. Everything was perfectly fine, and although it was strange at first, they were getting used to it.

They had become much closer, and at least Harry believed that there were no longer any secrets between them except for why Louis wouldn't tell him he loved him. Yeah. They'd been married for a year, and yet the Devil hadn't said those simple words.

And Harry was starting to feel like he wasn't being reciprocated.

—I missed you. —The boy says once Louis sits on the bed, with him on his lap.

—I thought you were pretty good with your friend. —He responds, taking the kisses to the skin of the boy's neck.

Harry smiles a little. —Yeah, I was pretty good. But still... I missed you every second.

—That's my favorite boy. —He grunts softly, satisfied by his husband's response before kissing his lips again.

The curly boy climbs out of the Devil's lap to walk over to his closet, grabs his pajamas and starts dressing up with his back turned while answering questions from the King of the Underworld about whether anyone had messed with him during the time he was away and mainly wanting to know if he had eaten anything during the day.

He finished putting on his pajama pants and his gray long-sleeved shirt. His hair was still perfectly combed.

—I ate so much that I'm still too full to move. —He commented, turning with a shy smile and flushed cheeks.

It was true. He was used to small plates, and Fionn's father clearly wasn't, because he had served him something like a mountain of pasta with a lot of sauce. The amazing thing is that he had eaten almost everything. He was a very good cook.

Lost in thought, he didn't realize that Louis was standing in front of him and was pulling his hand away from his arm, his face completely expressionless as he stared at him. —Are you still scratching?

—Oh, no. —He's lying, but he sighs at the look of the Devil. —Well, yeah. —He admits he tried to lie to his husband.

—Why didn't you tell me? —He says in the same tone of voice, and takes his arm to observe the area where it itches.

—Because you're all making a big deal out of a little itch. —Louis looks up to watch Harry again. If it weren't for the fact that he is his husband and he knows him, those blue eyes with red, inexpressive, that stare at him, would scare him. But it's not like that, he knows that that look means that Louis doesn't exaggerate, he just takes care of Harry, and he doesn't know how to say it out loud. —Lou, I understand, but it will go away. Maybe it's some kind of fabric or food allergy, just like the doctor said.

The Devil looks down at his husband's pale arm again and frowns a little, as if he were beginning to think of something that he finally discards by wrapping him in his arms and kissing him on the forehead. Harry loved it when Louis did that, they were rare and he was always as surprised as the first time. He hugs his husband's warm torso and rests his cheek on his chest, feeling whole.

—How was your day, Lou?

—Alright. —He responds, and tightens his grip on the boy's waist before starting to leave slow kisses on the skin of his neck. Harry keeps his eyes closed, and doesn't stop thinking about the time that had passed, and the time that would pass. —You seem tense.

The curly boy sighs and tilts his face a little more, looking for those warm lips to relieve the tension he was beginning to feel throughout his body.

—I was just thinking...

—You're cold. Let's go to bed, and we'll talk about it. —He left one last kiss and moved away so he could let his favorite boy move.

The latter immediately went to his bed and moved the blankets before getting in, making room for the Devil, who also lay down and waved his hand so that the blankets would cover them. He drew the boy to his body, which was warm and would take away the shivering of the cold.

—It will be my birthday in a few days. —Harry began. Louis just kissed his cheek gently, cuddling his boy. —I'm growing up... and I don't want to.

—It's completely normal to get nostalgic about it, nobody likes to get old.

—Yes, but not everyone is married to the king of the underworld. —He mumbles, trying to make himself understood.

Harry doesn't return Louis' gaze, and silence becomes present only for a few seconds. —I told you I'd do everything I could to make you live forever with me.

—I know, and I value that. Believe me, I do. —The curly boy quickly clears up, without wanting Louis to feel that he had failed to make him happy. —But... I don't know, it just kind of discourages me. I don't want to be sixty when that happens.

—Why? I'm thousands of years old, and more. I'd feel a bit even, to be honest. —Harry can't help but laugh softly at that joke.

—Yeah, but you look in your 20s. That won't look pretty. —He can't help but laugh again and Louis can't help but kiss him again. Harry pulls away seconds later, staring at his husband. —I love you, Lou. I'm just afraid that we can't make it, that something will happen.

—Don’t be. —He says, again avoiding those words and putting his hands under the boy's shirt to caress his skin. —You have to trust me.

Harry feels a lump in his throat. Trust. Trust that he loved him even if he didn't say it back.

—I do. —He answers, and they kiss again.

They start a session of slow, sweet kisses with soft bites on their lips. Louis wouldn't let Harry speak, and he laughed between kisses, trying to get away, but he couldn't and it made him laugh more before he was kissed again slowly and more deeply. Both tongues meet and rub together, a thousand sensations are unleashed on the curly boy's body. He loved to feel Louis' tongue with his own.

The king of the underworld moves away. —You have to sleep.

Fuck.

Harry knew that Louis was saying that because Harry hadn't slept very well the night before, all because they had made love and stayed up talking about a lot of things until the morning.

He sighs. —Okay. —He says, receiving one last kiss before closing his eyes and being drawn to the oldest man's chest. —Lou.

—Mh?

Silence.

—Do you have a birthday?

More silence for more seconds.

—No.

—Would you like to have one? —And he smiles slightly sleepily as he feels a strong heartbeat in the Devil's chest.

—Why do you ask?

Harry feels like he's falling asleep. He's doing everything he can to stay awake. —I just think it would be nice if you decided to have one. I could give you a gift and... —He yawns. —...and bake you a cake. I don't know.

Louis kisses his lips for the last time. —Sleep, kid. We can talk about this another day.

And Harry doesn't refuse, finally sleeping soundly.

Monday noon on a sunny but cold day, Liam, Fionn and Harry were having lunch in the school cafeteria. Stella, a nice blonde girl who had gone out a couple of times with Fionn, was on his lap, listening to him talk as she looked around to make sure there was no teacher around who saw her.

—And the screen broke. I have my suspicions that Harry did it with his powers, because he wasn't even surprised. —He comments, making the girl laugh.

Harry, on the other hand, was sick and tired of hearing his best friend tell the story to every living thing that came his way. Yet he never stopped being kind or made anyone else feel stupid.

—It's not that I wasn't surprised, I just didn't react like you did.

Liam just watched the situation, eating. He loved being with his friends.

—And how is it that, according to you, I reacted?

—It's been a day and you keep telling it. You even repeat it!

—It's because he's excited, leave him. —Stella defends him, and he kisses Fionn on the lips, who is pleased. Harry rolls his eyes and Liam laughs, causing the teenagers to separate. Stella looks around again and quickly gets up from Fionn when she sees a teacher in the distance. —I'm going to my class. See you tonight?

—You sure will. —They kiss quickly before the girl walks away from that table. Fionn watches her leave before turning to his friends, who are looking at him. —...What?

—I must go to the library. —Liam says, standing up and taking the water bottle from his tray, looking at the curly boy and trying not to laugh. —See you tonight? —He says, imitating a higher tone.

—You sure will. —Harry says in a flirtatious tone, imitating his best friend. They both laugh except for Fionn as Liam walks away.

—Harry Styles, stop breaking my heart.

—You break mine, you replace me with Stella. —He pretends to be sad, sighing. —Is it because her hair is blonde and mine isn't? —He smiles, showing that he is clearly joking before sighing when the bell rings. Everyone starts to stand up, and so do they. —What are you doing to... —He doesn't finish his question because of Fionn's face, who remains silent. —No, no. I don't want to know.

—Good. That's good.

They walk down the hallway, slowly as Fionn tells him about his birthday surprise, without saying anything.

—It's gonna be great, but I can't tell you.

—Sounds like you want to tell me everything. —They go into the bathrooms, which luckily are empty.

Fionn heads to a cubicle while Harry waits for him standing in front of the sinks.

—Yes, but I can't. Liam would kill me, he's going to help me with everything.

It sounds like Fionn comes out of the cubicle, but Harry can't even pay attention to it because he feels a terrible pinch, as if fire were being injected into the place that always stings his arm. His mouth opens and groans in pain before he leans against the sink.

—Harry? Hey. —He approaches immediately. —What is it?

—N-Nothing. —He strokes his arm when the burning stops, and breathes again, shakily. —I just felt a horrible pain in my arm. I must have slept on it. —He lies.

Fionn knows Harry's lying, but he won't say anything. He washes his hands and puts one arm around Harry's shoulders, trying to show his support.

—Let's go to class. —He says, and they come out of the bathroom that way.

When they came out, Harry would have preferred to stay in the bathroom.

Both boys stop, surprised that many students are running in the same direction, down the long corridor and to the left. Many whisper things, nothing looks good.

—What’s happening? —Harry asks, trying not to let the fear in his voice show.

—I don't know. Let's find out. —Still with his arm around the shoulders of the curly boy, they both start to walk slowly in that direction. —Hey, Langdon. —Fionn raises his voice when he sees one of his classmates. —What’s happening?

—Someone died. —He says, and he runs over to that spot.

Both teenagers are beginning to feel a void in their stomachs, especially Harry, who hadn't heard the word "Death" for over a year. Nothing related to that, since it had been a year of pure happiness where the Devil was with him, where everyone thought he had left, but it was a lighter lie to carry.

As if they were both in sync, they start walking down the hallway, silently, without running. They look calm, but they're terrified. It was already a horrible thing, what if it was someone they knew? Liam? Stella? Ruby? They hadn't seen Ruby until a couple of months ago, they rarely crossed her, but she was still an acquaintance.

Finally they turn where all the people are crowded, and they separate as they try to get through. There's a body of a student that, fortunately, they didn't know, but it was still a student. A person. His eyes stare at a spot lost in the air, pale and blood-soaked, with cuts on every part of his arms and throat.

—Fuck. —Fionn says, breathing deeply before looking away and searching through the crowd. —Harry, there's Liam.

Fionn heads for their friend, but Harry can't move so easily. He looks up, blinking slowly and staring at the tall, black-cloaked figure standing far off in the hallway. That figure that took a piece of his soul a long time ago, but that Louis was able to fix because it had apparently been no big deal. Death was staring at him, even if Harry couldn't see his creepy face under the black cape that covered his head, he knew that it had already taken the dead student's soul, and that it was only there to show that he was watching.

Him.

Harry comes out of there when he sees the cops and two doctors arriving with a stretcher where they would put the body. He heads back the way he came, and on the way to the bathroom he takes off his ring. Seconds later, he feels the uneasiness in his stomach and calms down, but only a little. He wants to cry.

Once inside the bathroom, he locks the door and turns around, watching the Devil standing there, looking alert.

—Lou. —His voice breaks as tears escape him, and he reaches out to his husband, being wrapped by his arms against the warmth of his chest. He begins to cry softly, with his little eyes closed and slightly frowning. —I-I can’t...

—Shhh, don’t talk. —He holds him better until he can carry him in his arms and lift him up to one of the sinks, sitting him on it. He stands between his legs and slowly wipes his face, leaving a kiss on his lips. —Someone died.

Harry nods slowly and looks down, with more tears flowing. His hands are shaking. —I-I'm sorry. It's just... I haven't seen anything like this in a long time.

—I didn't see, but I felt. Death was here.

—Not anymore? —He sipped his nose and Louis continued to wipe the tears from his beautiful green eyes.

—Not while I'm around. He's afraid of me.

—Why was he still here if the boy was already dead? He already took his soul. Wasn't he supposed to be gone?

—Maybe he had to take someone else.

—Two deaths on the same day and in the same place?

—Maybe not on the same day. Sometimes he's watching his next victim.

Harry was immediately silent, looking at Louis for a few seconds before he felt a shiver. He attached himself more to this one.

—You know who Death used to be?

—There were many Deaths. This is the ninth, the penultimate. There can only be ten. —He answered. Harry liked to know about these things.

—Is it like being a prophet? I mean, do they choose you?

—To tell you the truth, I'm not sure how it works, but this Death chose it. After costly rituals to contact God, he came to me. —He starts, stroking the boy's back slowly. —He was a simple man from a filthy village full of poverty. He had a wife, and six children. He killed these to show me his insensitivity, that he could be Death. —Harry shakes his head slowly. He didn't understand how anyone could do something like that. —He killed his wife to get the invocation ritual, and when he met the eighth Death, he fought her. I don't know or care how, but he won, and he's waiting for the next one.

—I thought Death was supposed to be someone quiet, who helps people die in peace.

—Yeah, the guy above thinks so, too. On the long list of "Reasons to hate my favorite archangel" is that. —He smirks, showing off.

Harry moves a little away from his chest to look up and watch him. —Did all Deaths squeal like that and dress like that?

—No, except for the clothing. The shriek is something that comes out of somewhere in Death when it is present, and it is only heard by beings who are capable of seeing it, not humans. I heard it when I arrived.

—And why do I hear it?

—Because, for some reason, this Death doesn't speak, and screaming is the only way to communicate. —Harry frowned a little. That was weird. He gets a kiss on the lips from his husband. —You need to calm down and face this. Deaths are completely normal.

—For you. —The boy snorted, and Louis kissed him again. —What would you do if I died?

And immediately, Louis' arms tighten, his face becomes inexpressive again and his eyes become dark. All trace of a blue there disappears. Harry can't help being surprised, he can't help feeling nostalgia and at the same time happiness for the Devil's concern.

—Lou. —He brings his soft, delicate hands to his husband's cheeks. —I'm sorry. I'm not going to die, it was just a supposition. I didn't know you'd get like this.

Louis just stares at him before looking sideways at the door and returning to his husband. —They're sending everyone home, you won't have to stay here. As soon as you get there, eat something and go down to your room. I'll be there.

And in the blink of an eye, he disappears, as does the discomfort in the curly boy's stomach.

The latter sighs and jumps off the sink in one small jump. He turns to look in the mirror and washes his face as his nose and around his eyes are pink from crying. Finally, he heads for the bathroom exit, removing the door latch before leaving. He looks to the side and notices Fionn and Liam walking in that direction. His best friend sighs, relieved to find him.

—Harry, where were you? —As soon as he arrives in front of him, he wraps him up in a big hug. —You were crying. Did someone hurt you? You fool, you can't walk alone. There's a killer at the school.

—Relax... —Harry returns the hug because he feels his best friend is really scared. Even though his tone of voice sounded like he wanted to kill him, he knew that when he sounded like that it was because he was worried or scared. —...It just scared me to see the kid.

—I'm an idiot. After what you've been through with your family, I shouldn't have taken you. I'm sorry, Harry. —He turns away, and his gaze shows absolute guilt.

—Fionn, it's not your fault. I'm too old to be your responsibility.

—Shut up, you'll always be my responsibility, you idiot.

—Don't get cheesy. Harry, I'm glad you're alive. —He jokes, and Fionn glances at him, not making sense of the comment. —What? You're exaggerating, he just went to the bathroom.

Harry laughed softly. —Liam, we thought you were the one who died, too.

—Unfortunately for Fionn, I'm still alive. —This time all three of them laughed. —But seriously, we should go to the principal's office. They'll call our parents and we'll go home.

—Yeah. Apparently the school isn't safe until they find out who's killing people. —Fionn explains as the three of them head down the hall to the principal's office. —This will be chaos, they probably won't even let us walk the halls individually.

—You think it's wrong? I don't want to be alone if someone's killing people.

Harry doesn't care, he knows that just by taking off the ring, Louis will be there to save him from anything.

The Styles were finishing lunch after picking up Harry from school. Gemma finished eating first and went to her room, not before lifting her plate. No one touched on the subject of school, especially since they didn't want Harry to get upset.

When everyone had finished eating, Anne got up to put the dishes together.

—I’ll help. —Harry offered, about to stand up if it wasn't for his mother stopping him.

—No, no. Stay. I'll pick it up, you should go rest. —She says politely, and winks before heading into the kitchen.

Harry looks at his father, who has been watching him all through lunch, and sighs. —Dad...

—I didn’t say anything. —Des laughs softly, trying to reassure his son.

—I know, but I know what you're thinking. —And it hurt. He swallowed hard, shaking his head. —It wasn't me. I had nothing to do with it.

—Is he back?

—No. Nothing's back. — _ Lying bastard.  _ —There's nothing to fear, I'm overwhelmed because it brought back memories, but I swear this time I had nothing to do with it. There really is someone at the school who murdered that boy.

—I hope they find a solution, or I won't let you go again. —Des comments as Harry stands up.

—I'm going to help mom.

—She'll be upset if you do, you heard her, she wants you to go rest. Do you have homework? —Harry shakes his head. —Okay, then go to your room and rest.

—I'll be up in a while, I'm going to take a bath. —He says, and heads for the stairs, closing the door behind him before going down the stairs.

Finally, he arrives to his room and locks the door as he begins to take off his clothes. Louis wasn't there yet. He goes to the bathroom and starts filling the tub with his underwear and socks, shivering a little from the cold.

He feels the uneasiness creeping up on him a few minutes later. Harry doesn't turn around, he continues to regulate the water for his bath.

—Since when did you become an exorcist? —Louis asks, and when Harry turns with his cheeks blushing due to being in his underwear, the Devil has in his hands the curly boy's notebook, where he had written down an exorcism he had learned by heart.

—Since a demon was chasing me.

Louis closes the book and leaves it on the toilet seat before approaching the curly boy, wrapping his half-naked body with his arms, caressing his thighs as he presses his lips against his ear.

—You’re cold. —He says, gently biting the boy's earlobe, causing him to shiver more at the warmth mixed with the coldness.

—Lou... —He sighs. —...wait. —He moves away a little bit and turns around, turning off the tap. The bathtub was already full, and the water was perfect. He turns to the Devil again. —Lou, I'm sorry about what I said to you at school. I didn't mean to upset you. —He apologizes, but the Devil just wraps him up in his arms again and kisses his lips softly and slowly. Harry lets himself go completely, wrapping his arms around the neck of the tallest one and standing on his tiptoes. —You're not upset? —He says on his husband's lips, who shakes his head before he steps aside.

—I thought of an answer to your question. —He answers, and smiles slyly. —You'd be my perfect excuse for the apocalypse.

Harry can't help but laugh and this time he starts a kiss.

His giggling stops with more kisses, kisses that rise in temperature just like their bodies. The Devil's hands caress the boy's buttocks under his underwear, pressing him against the obvious erection that has formed under his pants. Slight moaning escaped from the boy's mouth as the pressure and the kiss grew deeper and deeper.

Louis moved his hands to begin removing his shirt, but Harry removed his hands and unbuttoned it himself, removing it and leaving his torso full of tattoos visible. He left the shirt on the sink next to him and put his little hands down the Devil's trousers. Louis was wearing nothing under his pants.

Completely naked, he ended by removing the curly boy's underwear while the latter was getting rid of his socks with his own feet. Louis stepped aside just to get in the tub and help Harry in. He sat down, and pulled the curly boy's hand to stand in front of him. He started kissing his thighs wetly as he caressed his buttocks and between them. The boy sighed.

—Stay still... —Louis said at the movement of the boy's hips, and continued to kiss his thighs, biting gently and making him sigh again. —...Good boy. Come here.

He pulled at his hands and Harry sat on Louis' lap, being greeted by the warm water. He raised his face when he received a slow, deep kiss on his lips. He groaned as he taped his torso to the older man's and wrapped his arms around his neck.

Unconsciously, the curly boy began to move his hips, and the friction began. Both sighed over each other's mouths as they caressed and kissed. The Devil brought his kisses to the boy's neck, who made low sounds, with his little eyes closed and frowning.

—Lou... —He wrinkled his little nose as he felt the Devil slip two of his ringed fingers inside him, starting to move them slowly. A little sigh came from his lips before he began to moan at the movements his husband was making within him, and how his fingertips brushed against his sweet spot, making him squirm.

The curly boy's hands went down his husband's torso, caressing, delineating with his fingers over the tattoos, over the phrases and symbols that were incomprehensible to him. Shocks of pleasure ran through him the whole time, and the warmth was overwhelmingly exquisite.

—P-Please...

—As my boy wishes. —Louis said although, to be honest, he couldn't stand it either.

He slowly took his fingers out of the boy and stared at him, loving how those beautiful green eyes shone, how his little mouth was red, slightly swollen, and how the color on his cheekbones was a slight pink.

—You're going to ride me.

Harry nodded as he put his hands on the Devil's shoulders so he could rise a little. The archangel helped him by taking him by the hips, and the younger one went down, bringing a hand to Louis' erection to slowly bring him inside. It didn't hurt anymore, only his legs were shaking, because he felt... he felt too good.

He held his arms around the entity's neck when finally the member of the entity was completely inside, and waited a few seconds that way, between kisses, caresses of hands and tongues, to finally start moving his hips in circles.

It felt good, it felt like home. It was not just the pleasure, the sensations; it was the feeling, to be close enough to complement each other, to breathe and know every detail in the body of the other, in the soul.

Harry, with the help of the love of his life, began to jump, at first slowly, over the entity's erection, forming a sway that made them tremble. For some reason, the cold in their skins, except for the areas in the warm water, made everything better. The change in temperature, the irregularity of their breathing as they kissed, sighing brokenly in each other's mouths, increasing the rate of thrusts. He felt full, making love to the Devil even felt pure, but bad at the same time.

Harry didn't care, he just... it was too much. Louis was too much for him, and he loved him with all his heart.

Minutes later, when they were both covered by a thin layer of sweat and the tingling in their bellies was too much, they picked up the pace. Harry was the first to come, with a high-pitched, choppy moan, stopping his movement, with only Louis keeping him going with the thrusts. His essence came out of his member, mixing with the water as the stream of intense pleasure ran through his body.

Soon he could feel the evil filling his insides, pressing him harder against himself. Both of them hugging, breathing heavily. Louis brought one of the hands that were on the boy's buttocks to his chin, holding him firmly to attract him to his mouth, kissing him deeply.

—I love you...

—I know. —Louis answers, leaving kisses on his cheek, all over his face.

And Harry is about to say it, but he just reminds himself of Louis' reaction when he heard the boy's question in the school bathroom.

What if he died?

Red eyes, tense muscles, staring, not even being able to respond.

Louis loved him... and one day he would say it.


	25. XXII. "This Is How It Feels"

Heat, sweat, passion and the smell of sex were in the Devil's office, in the depths of the enormous and endless hell.

Yes, Louis had been craving this for a long time. To have his boy naked on top of him, jumping on his erection, kissing his whole body and having his moans echo in his office. All this while sitting on his throne, feeling like a real king.

He stroked his buttocks as he made him stop bouncing when he was very close. He wanted to enjoy those sensations more, to have the little body, naked and sweaty over his own, which was covered with his clothes, but with his pants down, of course.

He took his curls in a fist, pulling back to lift his face and attacking those reddish, slightly swollen lips. Harry groaned, responding as best he could. He felt breathless, very warm, very pleased. The Devil's hands were everywhere, his kisses made him feel closer to the edge, and the dirty words he whispered in his ear made him feel like a very, very bad boy.

He loved him so much.

Louis ordered Harry's movements between kisses, and he again restarted his hip movements, bouncing on the erection of his prince, his husband, his king. His everything.

The boy wrapped his arms around the Devil's neck, clutching and biting his lower lip, with his little eyes closed and a light scowl. The Devil brought his hands to Harry's waist, pressing it to help him go up and down faster. Again in that room there was moaning, panting, and snapping of kisses. It was all just too much, and none of them could stand it for long. They climaxed almost at the same time, their bodies shaking with the discharges of pleasure mixed with relief. Harry stained the entity's clothing with his essence, and noticed it almost immediately.

He remained embraced by the body of his husband, who kissed him wetly on the neck. —I’m sorry... —He apologized between bursts of breath.

Louis playfully bit his neck in the area where the boy was ticklish, making him laugh adorably and squirm a little in his arms, which tightened.

—You should have a bed here...

—We should. —The Devil corrects. —This is yours, too. —A tingling was present in Harry's tummy as he received a kiss in his ear. —Although I like to make you mine on my throne. —He says lowly, and squeezes his buttocks, causing him to moan audibly.

The Devil pulls away just to lift his chin and kiss him on the lips. Their tongues meet immediately, rubbing against each other, making wet sounds and more heat in their chests. Louis pulls away with a gentle bite to the boy's lower lip, and then opens his eyes to see him.

Uncombed curls, flushed cheeks, red lips and shiny, dilated eyes. The boy's gaze goes from gawky to confused to embarrassed.

—What is it? —He asked, tilting his head, slightly frowning.

—You look fucking good. —The Devil flatters, causing his boy to blush and laugh silently on an exhalation, lowering his gaze and slowly shaking his head. The king's eyebrows raise for a few seconds. —Oh, come on. Tell me my favorite boy doesn't know he's beautiful.

Once again, the little one denies, without looking up. —No...

—Are you contradicting me? —Louis' mouth goes back to the little one's ear. —Because, you see, I'm a liar... but I don't need to be with my husband. —He licked his earlobe before holding him better against his chest and watching him. —We should get back. It doesn't take long for them to wake up in your house, and it would be strange if they saw you on the stairs blindfolded by one of your socks.

Harry can't help but laugh and raise his face, asking for a kiss, getting it happily. He sighs deeply through his nose, his chest filling with love.

—I love you. —He said it because he felt it, and because he thought he might have a chance, that chance to hear his husband respond, to be reciprocated.

He never liked to push people, and he went beyond whether he liked to be pushed or not, because he always thought of others first, which was wrong, but it was also something he couldn't help.

He always thought of Louis first.

And even if the latter was the Devil, a person who had a throne, who ran hell, with little tact and zero tolerance for forgiveness, Harry treated him like any human being deserves to be treated. He gave him time, he gave him space and he gave him love.

And no. He wasn't getting sick of being unrequited.

He was getting tired of never being loved. Because that's what he asked for in the first place, to feel loved, and that even the Devil couldn't deliver that... was bad. Very.

He wrapped his arms around his neck to hold him closer, and the Devil slightly squeezed his hips. —But so much... I love you so much.

There was no response.

And suddenly, he was embarrassed. He felt ashamed to be in front of the Devil, still with him inside, naked on his lap and confessing his unrequited love. He sighed, and after a few seconds, he had no choice but to step back and stand up carefully, looking for his clothes and beginning to dress.

He wasn't going to cry.

He put on his underwear, high-waisted trousers, boots and shirt. He was buttoning the last buttons on this one when he heard Louis' voice.

—I know what you want to hear.

Harry slowly shook his head as he tucked his shirt into his pants and arranged his curls. —I don't think so. —He replied as best he could to the lump in his throat, still not turning because his eyes were beginning to fill with tears. He wiped away any trace of them.

He could feel Louis approaching slowly. —I know you're looking for an answer every time you say it.

—And I can understand that you can't give it to me. —He says politely, trying to be understanding. He starts to walk towards the huge golden exit door, he can feel his husband walking slower. He stops. —I just want you to be honest with me. If you say you don't need to lie to me, then you won't.

He's not ready to turn around, to face this talk, which he feels is going to leave him in pieces, but he does it anyway. Emerald green meets deep, cold blue and blood red.

—Is there anything stopping you from reciprocating?

Silence.

—No.

A stab pierces the chest of the short one and he swallows with force, raising an eyebrow a little. —Nothing? It's just you?

—Yes. —And he sees, for the first time, pain in the eyes of the king of the underworld.

Yeah, he can't take it anymore. The first tears escape the eyes of the curly boy and he can't help but hiccup. Louis approaches just a little, he looks tense, as if he doesn't like that situation. —Are you lying to me because it's necessary or are you telling me the truth? —He continues, but he realizes he's being a little boy. A little boy full of broken and unattainable hopes. Louis comes closer, his eyes turning red. —...You don’t love me? —His voice trembles even more, and he has to squeeze his lips to keep from sobbing.

—Harry... —It is the first time that he hears the voice of the Devil trembling, but it is as if it has awakened him, and he quickly regains that factional neutrality, which is inexpressive. —...I'm the Devil.

For some reason, for the archangel to say that is like saying everything, but Harry still finds it hard to understand. However, he's still sweet. He doesn't need to treat Louis badly for this, because he couldn't blame people for not loving him back.

—So why did we get engaged? —He sobs, and the older man's hand goes to one of his cheeks. Harry bends his face unconsciously, enjoying that touch. —Why are you looking for things to make me immortal and spend my life by your side if you don't? What's the point of all this, Lou? —And the Devil doesn't answer. He looks lost.

So Harry makes a decision.

He takes his little hand to his husband's, and slowly lowers it, leaving it palm upward. He caresses those rings on the fingers of the love of his life, and lets go, beginning to take his ring off.

Louis moves his hand away as if seeing that had burned him, his eyes become slightly larger and the burgundy consumes the blue. Blood staining the sea. Harry looks at him.

—Hold out your hand.

—No...

Harry wasn't doing this to get an answer, he wasn't doing this to push... he was doing this for his own good. Because he couldn't think of history repeating itself, that his marriage would be like his parents'. "We are joined by a ring, but we don't love each other." 

Without looking away from the archangel's eyes, he took his hand again and left the ring in his palm. He could swear he heard his heart breaking, echoing in hell.

—I know the way out, you don't have to come with me.

—What's changed?

They stare at each other before Harry speaks again.

—Nothing has changed. I still love you, and you don't. —He watches him with pain before turning on his heels and opening the heavy door, leaving the Devil's office and leaving him there, all alone.

He untied the sock that covered his eyes when he was on the top step of the stairs in his house. Everything was dark, it was early morning. Louis' presence was gone, and he had already felt that several times, but this time it was different... because it was the last time.

He swallowed hard before starting to cry quietly and walking down the steps to sit on the couch. He didn't want to go to his room, because he no longer felt protected. Now everything mattered, everything counted. It was a chance for whatever had been chasing Harry for over a year.

He had to be smart.

He stood up and quickly went to the drawers of the cabinet carrying the record player, looking through the stamps of virgins. He glimpsed something silvery shimmering by the light coming from the window. A crucifix. He took it immediately and turned on the light in the living room before returning to the sofa.

There was no need to bless it because every crucifix or rosary was blessed by his mother. He hung it around his neck and, for a few seconds, felt safe.

But was God going to protect him after he had been with the Devil?

He sighed and turned on the TV, turning it down. He lay down on the couch and tried to think that everything was fine, and he could handle it.

The day was getting long, and Fionn was just watching his best friend who was sitting next to him, pale and with purple bags under his eyes. He looked extremely tired and broken, but he couldn't ask him now because they were in the middle of a class and the substitute teacher was extremely annoying.

Minutes later the bell rang and everyone began to put their things away. Now all that was left was to go to the cafeteria for the last time, and they would finally leave that place.

—What's the matter with you? —Harry looks at him blankly at first, then frowning a little.

—Nothing.

—Are you mad at me? —The curly boy shakes his head again and both rush out of the room with the others because they no longer allow anyone to walk freely through the halls thanks to the murder of a student.

Once they start walking, Fionn sighs. —You are.

Harry can't help but chuckle. —Fi, I'm not mad at you. I'm really not, I just... I couldn't sleep. —He wasn't lying.

—Did something happen that made you unable to sleep?

Harry was silent for a few seconds before swallowing to respond. —No, I just couldn't.

He needed to learn to lie better, he had been doing it for a while and it was unfortunate that he still didn't sound honest.

Finally they arrived at the cafeteria and it was as if Liam knew, because he immediately approached. —Harry, you look pale. —Was the first thing he said, with a slight frown. He apologized with his eyes as he saw the way Fionn looked at him.

The latter sighed and put his arm around the shoulders of his best friend. —I'll tell you what. —He started to walk, causing his other two friends to do so as well. —Liam, you and I will get something to eat, and then we'll go to my place for the day.

—I'll fall asleep on the way. —He joked with a small smile as his eyes became slightly watery, but took a deep breath to make it go away.

—We'll carry you. —Liam said.

This last one and the curly boy go to sit at a table while Fionn goes to the line. Once in line, Stella appears and touches his shoulder, surprising his best friend with a kiss when he turns his face to look at her, a short one since there were teachers there.

I missed Louis' lips. Warm, expert and his.

—It looks like they're serious.

The curly one nods slowly and turns his gaze, frowning at the sight of two policemen at each corner of the place. —Why so much protection? Do they think it could be a group of killers?

—So it seems. —He hears a sigh and his gaze goes to his friend. —Nothing like this has ever happened before.

—You don't have to be scared, Liam.

—I'm not, but it makes me nervous that our town is small. —He explains as he arranges his hair. —We all know everyone, and that means it could be anyone.

The boy swallows, now a little nervous. That was true. Everything had become a mess, and even though he had told his friend not to be, he was afraid. If something happened to Liam, or Fionn... luckily his friends were smart, and didn't want to try to be rebellious.

—Harry... Did you really just couldn't sleep? —Harry watches him right away. —It's okay if you don't want to tell me, I just want to make sure everything's okay.

Should he?

He settles down in his seat before he sighs, crestfallen. —...Have you ever loved someone who doesn't love you back? —He begs that Liam wouldn't ask so many questions, because he'd really be speechless.

Liam's grimacing. He didn't expect that. —I think we all have. —He answers after thinking about it for a few little seconds.

—Yes, but I don't mean loving someone who doesn't notice you, I mean loving someone who looks like he loves you, and does things that assure you that he does... but doesn't say it, or denies it. 

There's silence again. Harry knows he'll get a good answer from Liam, because he was good at giving advice. The curly boy was lucky enough to have people like Fionn and Liam, not only because they were loyal, but because they knew how to respect opinions, and when one didn't want to tell more than he should. They knew not to interfere.

—That depends. Sometimes it's not all about saying it, although it makes us feel good to hear it. There are better ways to show love.

The boy frowns. —Such as?

—Protect, give space, protect. There are many more but, personally, I think those are the most remarkable. —The brunette allowed himself to give his opinion, watching Fionn in line.

—So what if he does all that, but denies it?

Liam looks at him again, only now he's staring. —He’s lying. —He answers, leaving his friend even more confused. —Not everyone, but at least this person you're telling me is.

—...How do you know that?

—You've told me that, from the things he does, he looks like he loves you. —Liam replies, hoping that it will be obvious and a little indignant when he notices that Harry doesn't understand. —You're an extremely insecure person, and if you say that it's because you really know him, and you can tell he loves you. —They notice Fionn saying goodbye to Stella. —You're just insecure enough to believe it.

Harry wrinkles his nose a little, suddenly feeling guilty. —Is it... my fault?

—No, he's an idiot. —Liam quickly says, and Harry unconsciously denies. —But he'll have his reasons.

“ **_I’m the Devil._ ** ” Did Louis think it was his duty not to love or accept to do so? Did he take being the Devil as a job that would cost him more than working hours? Well, of course he did, but it was still a terrible thing. Was the Devil as insecure as Harry? What if Louis loved him and had thrown it all away because he was infatuated with hearing an answer?

Or what if he didn't and just didn't love him?

Honestly, Harry thought the first thing fit a lot more, but his insecurity wouldn't let him.

—What are you talking about? —Fionn asked as he arrived at the table, leaving the tray with the sandwiches and juice boxes on the table before sitting down.

Harry woke up from his trance at Liam's glance.

—That you and Stella look great. —Harry quickly responded. He wasn't lying, they had commented on that and it was the truth; they made a very nice couple. He took a sandwich from the tray, thanking his friend and taking a bite of the food. He wasn't that hungry.

Fionn raised both eyebrows. —Of course we look good, we're both hot. —He commented, making Liam laugh. He watched his best friend again, a little more calmly as he watched him eat. —Are you sure everything's okay?

Harry watched him, chewing and nodding quickly before swallowing. —Yeah, sure. I'm just tired.

And he thought about getting distracted, he thought about the things his friends were saying, about not shutting up and answering, joining in and not being so isolated in his thoughts. At first he couldn't do it, because he was sure that no one could or would want to take Louis out of his head, but finally he did, just at the moment he felt a look on the back of his neck, a cold on his back. Something or someone was very close to him, and he knew what it was.

He stopped eating, with his sandwich almost finished in his hand. He stared at the table and tried to stay calm. Death must have been checking to see if the Devil really wasn't going to show up, how did he know?

Well, Harry had come out of hell crying. Maybe word got out or... he didn't know.

He just knew he had it right behind him, and that it was disturbing. Its presence wasn't pleasant at all. It was like when he had it in front of him, unexpressed and calm.

And why was it there? Easy.

—Someone else has died. —He whispers.

The cops in the hallway enter the cafeteria and walk across to the teachers. The bell rings after a few seconds, and everyone stands up. Harry's still frozen in place, and Fionn's surprised by that.

—Harry. —He calls, and the one named slowly looks up, his eyes watering and full of terror. —What is it?

—Harry? —Liam joins.

They are about to continue questioning, but one of the teachers of the last course makes everyone shut up before speaking.

—I need everyone to line up! We'll take you to the principal's office, and there you'll call your families to come and get you. Everybody in order, and calmly!

Harry stands abruptly, trying not to tremble as he walks away with his friends without looking back. Fionn thinks he's scared of the murders, and keeps him close by all the time, trying to reassure him that he can go home, and he and Liam would wait for Anne to come by. Neither said a word, and when Mrs. Styles arrived, they said goodbye and accompanied him until he was sitting in the passenger seat.

—Boys. —Anne called her son's two friends. —Do you want a ride home?

—Oh, no. It's all right, Anne. We don't want to intrude. —Fionn spoke.

—It's no bother. Have you notified the offices of your departure?

—Yes, a few minutes ago. —Liam said, and asking for permission he got in the back, followed by Fionn.

The journey was silent except for the questions that Anne asked Harry, and he answered in a sharp, neutral way as he shrank in his seat and held the crucifix in his neck with one hand.

Finally Fionn and Liam got off at the first named's house, both thanked and said goodbye to their friend and mother. When this happened, Anne looked at her son again.

—My love. Are you okay? —Harry's lip quivers before he looks down. He needs his mother. —What's going on? Hazz, did you get scared? —The curly boy nods slowly before closing his eyes, with his first tears coming out and beginning to sob quietly. He was very frightened. —Oh, my baby. —She immediately took off his seat belt and pulled him into her arms, cradling him in her chest. —Mommy's here with you and she's not gonna let anything happen to you, okay? —Harry nods, still sobbing.

He stays like that for a few seconds, although when he's done his chest still hurts. Leaving Louis had been the most painful thing that had happened to him, he didn't even understand how it crossed his mind, and the latter surely hated him.

His mother pulled him back a bit and wiped his cheeks. —You look tired... Hazzie, I found a blanket on the couch. Aren't you sleeping in your room? 

—I can’t...

—What if I sleep with you? I'll protect you, honey. There's nothing to be afraid of. —His mother said, and wished with all his might that it was true. —We're going to spend the whole afternoon together, you're not alone.

Harry's sobbing again. He was lonelier than ever. —Mommy, I love you.

—I love you so much more, darling. —She kisses him on the forehead and adjusts his seat, putting the seat belt back on before driving again. —Okay, forget about this ugly moment. Let's go buy something nice for lunch, shall we? I can make you anything you want.

Harry sipped his nose and slowly nodded. —Okay. —He answered with his choppy voice, and turned to face the window.

Unable to avoid it, he fell asleep on his way home, looking up at the sky and uncertain that, this time, no crow was following him.

The huge golden door had closed, the Devil stood there, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to think.

So he got to work.

He understood humans a bit after all. He had observed how they used to work or do things to forget misfortunes, to clear their heads. Louis had filed over fifty contracts that day, released souls who had already served their years in hell, and made more contracts for new souls who sought to negotiate with demons. He prowled around, checking how everyone was doing their jobs.

He kept his head busy, blocked out what he couldn't accept.

He wasn't paying a bit of attention to Baphomet, a demon who looked for the contracts to distribute them. He was commenting on the number of people applying to hell as if it was the best gift of their life. Louis looked up from his throne at a clock on the wall. The numbers were Roman, and it was very old, from a bank that had sunk years ago. It worked backwards, but it worked well. Days had passed, and that meant that more had passed on earth. It was probably the curly boy's birthday, and if he wasn't mistaken, it was about to end.

—Send a crow. —Finally he spoke reluctantly, interrupting the other demon.

—I beg your pardon?

Then the devil looked at him, with his eyes scarlet -  _ they had been like that all day _ \- and he stood up slowly. —Do I have to repeat myself?

—No! No. Of course not. I'll send a crow right away. —The demon was smart. He took the rest of the contracts and ran out of that room.

Louis sighed.

How could the Devil have been so foolish? Had he not learned and this was another lesson from his father, or was Harry very real? No. Harry couldn't be real, because he was the kindest, most sensitive, most caring human being. He always wanted to help everyone, it was very rare for him to judge someone and everything he did was out of pure innocence and curiosity. He never meant any harm, even if he chose the wrong thing.

How could someone like that fall in love with him?

He turned slowly, and looked at the small throne next to his.

He was willing to give him everything, even immortality, because that's what he wanted. He wanted him by his side willingly, without obligation. It seemed unattainable to make the child happy, but sometimes, when the two of them had finished making love and Louis was holding his husband's little naked body in his arms, Harry looked as if he wanted nothing more. Harry looked full, joyful. Happy.

Was it too late to tell him?

Maybe he's already got himself another boyfriend, humans used to do that, and they were even with more people at the same time, without one of them knowing it. That made his blood boil, but all his thoughts were interrupted when the doors opened abruptly.

He turned, bewildered. No one came in without knocking first. Baphomet watched him in panic, as if he knew what was coming and how the Devil would get.

—Sir, you need to go right now.

And he felt it in his chest. A void, a deep, endless void formed as he burned, and the thoughts in his head were more than negative. He strides out of hell, thinking.  _ This is how it feels? _

But now it didn't matter, because whoever touched him was going to cross the Devil himself more than just angry.


	26. XXIII. "Let The Show Begin"

A sigh. A long, deep, choppy sigh.

No, no. He simply couldn't.

His mind didn't go back, nor did it go forward. It took more than a sigh to face what had happened, and a will to live to face what would continue.

He looked with his blurred vision -  _ it could be his wounds, it could be his tears _ \- his bloody, trembling, and bruised hands. He looked up and looked a few yards away at that bag, again he looked forward.

You needed to want to be well to want to die. He definitely didn't want to be okay, because he didn't deserve it. He deserved to suffer.

He stood up as if nothing had happened, feeling no pain at all, just tingling and a void in his chest, and turned around, trying not to trip, limping and with his hand pressed on his rib even though he didn't feel the real pain.

The real pain was now in his soul.

And he hoped, he really did, not to be alive past midnight.

**// 8 hours earlier. //**

The boy opened his eyes because of his sister on him, waking him up without any sign of kindness, just an off-key and annoying song, but it made him smile.

—HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY SMELLY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU —He received a kiss on his cheek that made him laugh silently and hide his face in the pillow, pretending to still be asleep even though he clearly wasn't. —Oh, come on. You have to wake up, you're eighteen. EIGHTEEN! —She shook his shoulder as she shouted that, causing him to laugh. —Mom wants you to get up, you won't get out of school just because it's your birthday.

Harry nodded and waited for his sister to come out of his room before sighing, rubbing his little eyes with his fists before sitting down slowly, half moaning. He blinked a couple of times and looked around, looking for something that clearly wasn't there. Louis.

A little more distressed, he took the rosary off his neck, nervously. He left it on his bedside table and closed his eyes, counting to ten, and then opened them.

No, it wasn't the rosary.

Louis was gone, and although it was time to accept that he wouldn't be coming back, it hurt. It hurt because he believed his reasons were valid, he felt that what he did was for the good of both of them. Maybe someone else could have done it, but it hurt to live in fear of not being loved, and Louis had practically rejected him when they talked about it. "I am the devil." What could he have done after that? Circled his neck, told him it didn't matter and made love again? Harry knew and was aware that he had said countless times that Louis could do whatever he wanted with him, but he had already spent more than a year with him, there was no longer a contract for his soul, it was more serious than at the beginning.

Although, apparently, it was never serious.

He swallowed hard the knot in his throat and decided to shake his head, letting all those thoughts evaporate as he got up and walked in his pajamas to the bathroom.

Yeah, he'd take a bath, a hot shower.

There was nothing to worry about, he would be fine.

He was ruined.

Why did everything remind him of him?

Bathing reminded him of him, especially of that time when he panicked when he was about to leave, and the Devil took him into the bathtub and held him to his chest.

When he got dressed in front of the mirror, he could see himself a year ago, with his suspenders in his high shorts, stockings around his knees, and kickers, with his husband behind him, telling him how beautiful he looked, and the purity he carried with him.

No one was ever going to say anything that nice to him in his life, and if they did, he didn't want anyone else.

He couldn't help but cover his face and cry silently. How would he live without Louis? He was his anchor, he kept him steady, on his feet after all the bad things he had done. He kept him sane, accompanied and happy. Now he was alone.

He wiped his face, and again washed it before he finished dressing, putting on a grey sweater over his white shirt and taking his backpack before leaving his room.

As soon as he went upstairs and opened the door to the living room, his mother welcomed him with a warm hug. —Happy birthday to the love of my life. —She said, making him feel really coddled and holding back the crying. She took him by the face and spread kisses all over his face. —No matter how old you are, you'll always be my baby.

Harry laughed shyly and received a hug from his father, who had approached him while his mother kissed him. —Happy birthday, Hazz. —He kissed him on the forehead and pulled the wet curls to one side. —Don't go out with your hair wet, it's cold and you don't want to get sick on your birthday, right? I'll take you to school.

Harry nodded. He felt more comforted. —Alright, thank you.

He allowed his mother to guide him into the kitchen, taking off his backpack and leaving it on the back of the seat where her son would be. She walked over to a counter and poured a cup of hot chocolate next to a small plate of chocolate chip cookies.

—Oh. Thank you, mommy. —He said and took a cookie, dipping it in the milk before he started eating.

—You're welcome, sweetheart. —Anne answered affectionately, stroking her baby's curls and smiling at Gemma before looking at her son again. —Are you better? —Harry, who was drinking from the cup, nodded. —Your friends told me about a surprise they have for you tonight. You're going, right?

—Oh, yes. —He licked his lips, although some hot chocolate remained on the upper ones. —Fionn wants me there, he was talking about it all day yesterday and that I had to be on time.

—Where will it be?

Harry looked up at her. —I don't know, it's a surprise.

—Okay, but be careful. —She looked up at her daughter, who was quietly drinking from her cup. —Gemma, what about Theo?

Her face suddenly changes to be more serious. —We broke up. We don't talk anymore.

Anne was about to start questioning, but when her daughter shook her head and Des entered the kitchen holding a newspaper and humming, she focused on the latter to start a conversation.

—Honey, Joffrey and Jacky?

Harry didn't allow himself to hear any more and watched his sister, who stirred the tea in her cup and sighed, looking lost. Both siblings were going through the same thing, except that Harry had been in a relationship longer, and more accustomed to Louis' presence.

—Why did you break up?

Gemma looked up for a few seconds before looking back at her cup and shrugging her shoulders innocently. —It's... complicated.

He would probably have answered the same thing.

Minutes later he found himself saying goodbye to his sister and mother as he walked to his father's car, which now had a '67 impala.

He got into the passenger seat and left the backpack at his feet before putting on his seat belt his father climbing up beside him. He sighed. He felt much better now that he had had breakfast and his family was giving him so much love and affection. He was a spoiled boy, again.

But without the love of his life.

—Hazz. —He watched his father, who turned the key to start the car. —Now that you're of age, if you want I can teach you how to drive. It's easy and it will serve you well.

The boy grimaced. —Uhm… I don't like to drive, I'm too fearful. I prefer to walk.

—Oh, come on. —Des encouraged him. —You don't necessarily have to learn to use it on a daily basis, you can also simply know in case an emergency ever arises.

It was almost immediately that his father began to teach him all sorts of things about the car. How to get it going, the gears, braking, speed, etc. Harry was paying close attention, and he could understand it, but honestly he didn't believe he was ever going to drive.

Once Des parks in front of the curly boy's school, the latter unbuckles his belt and puts on his backpack.

—Your mother told me you weren't well a few days ago. —Harry watches him sideways, hesitating before nodding quickly. —Harry, if you're scared, you can call me. Don't hold back, I'll be right back and you know it.

It was amazing how much Des Styles had changed. He had gone from being a religious, homophobic, bully to the opposite. Of course Harry didn't support that, and it even hurt him to say it, but he agreed with the punishment Louis had given him, because it changed him. It made him see what is truly to be feared, and what it takes to judge without knowing.

—Okay... Thanks, dad.. —He bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek before getting out of the car, closing the door. He bent down a little to stand next to the window. —I have a question. Mom doesn't want me to be home because of the surprise party?

Des watched him for a moment, it even seemed that he had stopped breathing. —What surprise party? —Harry raised both eyebrows, waiting. —How did you know?

—She does it every year.

—Okay, yeah. But this time it'll be different. More people from the village will come. —He commented, and started the car again. —I don't think you should tell your mother.

—I won't. See you tonight, dad.

Harry passed in front of the car, carefully crossing the street and walking on the sidewalk before entering the school. There was a policeman there who would lead a group of students to the cafeteria, and Harry checked in with another policeman before going with the others. Security was extremely tight at the school, and anyone had the right to be absent if they could. Honestly, Harry believed that his classmates' parents were religious enough to believe that God would protect them.

Once they entered the cafeteria, it was almost instantaneous to receive a big hug from his best friend, who was faking crying next to his ear, making him laugh.

—Fionn, I'll die. —The curly boy said because the other boy's arms were squeezing him so hard. Liam was laughing at that with a little plate with half a cake on it.

—My little brother is no longer little. —He ran his hand through the curls, pulling them back and causing Harry to open his eyes wide. —He's grown up, he's... shit, no. He's a little brother. You're still younger than me. —He walked away, pretending to play it down.

Harry tucked his curls aside again. —For months. —He said, and was delighted to receive the hug of his other friend, Liam.

—Happy birthday, Hazz.

—Thanks, Li. —They stayed that way for a few more seconds before pulling away and smiling. Again the boy's gaze was on his best friend, who was looking around, focused. —Fi?

Fionn looked at Harry and shook his head. —Oh, I was just looking for Stella. She's going to help us with your surprise. Okay, let's eat. —He put one arm around the shorter boy's shoulders and guided him to the table.

There was a beautifully decorated cake on the table where they went to sit, only one piece was missing and Fionn commented annoyed at how Liam couldn't resist and started eating earlier than he should have. The brown-eyed boy didn't seem to mind, and Fionn continued to argue. Harry was so happy about those little talks or anecdotes.

The classes went by faster than usual, and the three boys checked out at the principal's office before leaving the school, walking amidst chatter and laughter to Fionn's home. Mr. Whitehead was there, watching TV. He received Harry with a big hug and congratulated him before leaving the boys, going to sleep for a few hours as he would be the one to take Harry to the place where Fionn and Liam had the surprise.

The three boys kept talking, even did their homework to have the rest of the day off. They had demanding parents, who put pressure on them with their studies and their future.

Finally Liam decided he would go to Fionn's room to prepare the things they would take to the surprise place. Once he was out of the room, the blue-eyed man turned to take an envelope from his backpack and hold it out to Harry.

—I have this gift here for you, and it's the only thing I'm going to give you. —Harry takes it, excited and willing to open it, but Fionn stops him. —No, no. It's not for you to open now, it's for you to open when... oh, fuck it. Open it, open it!

Harry started laughing and before he could think of opening it, he shook it. —Is it a guitar? —He joked, and they both laughed again before the boy finally opened the envelope and took out what was inside. —...oh. Oh, wow.

Wow. Wow. Wow, wow, wow.

Fionn stirred on the couch, anxious and waiting for a reaction. —What's up, huh? You think we could go to London and get there in time for the Frank Sinatra show?

Harry was amazed. Fionn knew how much he liked that artist, how good it made him feel to hear his vinyl when he was sad, and now... now he would have the chance to see him live, and with his best friend. In his hand were two concert tickets, and two tickets for a train to London in three weeks. It was the best gift in the world.

—You, me... Seriously?! Really?! Oh, God! —He laughed joyfully before throwing himself into his best friend's arms, both fused into an embrace. —Thank you, thank you, thank you.

—I hope it's better than a guitar. —The sky-eyed boy joked before they both pulled away.

Harry looked at the tickets again and put them back in the envelope, smiling and with his eyes wet with emotion. —I will take care of this with my whole being. —He put it in his backpack.

—I thought you deserved a big surprise for your 18th after all you've been through. —Harry grimaces, hiding a little smile. —And I've noticed you're sad. As your best friend, it's my duty to make you feel better.

—It's not your duty, you don't have an obligation to make me happy. —He was already starting to pout.

—That's true, I'm sorry. I want to see you better. —He clarified.

They stared at each other, with smiles on their lips. The love and appreciation they had for each other was incredible. They would always be a family.

—Fionn, you're making me fall in love with you. —The curly boy joked, trying not to laugh when his best friend put a hand to his chest.

—I thought you already were.

—Oh, no. You think I was too obvious?

—Not so obvious to take lightly, but enough not to be surprised. —They laugh while Harry slowly shakes his head. He still wanted to cry. —I really want to see you better.

—I will, I promise.

Yeah, maybe he would be.

Liam left the room minutes after that talk, carrying a stack of four boxes and trying not to trip. Fionn immediately stood up and helped him with two.

—What were you talking about? —Liam asked, smiling at Fionn in gratitude.

—Harry was confessing his love for me. —And it had sounded so indifferent and realistic, that Liam opened his eyes wide, watching both of his friends.

—Was he the reason you were upset? —He asked the curly boy. The latter opened his eyes a little too wide, stunned. —...oh. Oh, shit.

—What? What are you talking about? —Fionn asked, but seeing Liam so serious his gaze quickly turned to Harry's, also opening his eyes wide. —You're in love with someone! That's why you were sad! —Suddenly the teenager's expression changed to one of panic as he reaffirmed his grip on the boxes. —Oh… oh, no. Please tell me you're not in love with me and I made a stupid joke that hurt you.

Harry couldn't help but laugh, beginning to shake his head.. —It's not you, don't worry..

Fionn seemed to breathe again and watched Liam before the two smiled mischievously at each other, looking at the curly boy. —So... who is he?

He remembered letting go a ''he'' in Liam's question days ago, but there were already many occasions when his friends referred to someone Harry might be with as a boy.

It was time to clear up, whether it hurt or not.

—Why do you assume it's a boy? —He asks shyly, starting to get nervous with his cheeks warm.

—Because we're not stupid. —Liam answered, and they both continued with that naughty little smile.

Harry looked down, clasping his hands and interlocking his little fingers. —Do you... agree with it?

Fionn frowns, erasing his smile. —What?

—You don't think I'm sick?

—Sick is having the flu, not liking boys. And don't ever ask someone if they agree with your sexual orientation again, the only one who has to agree is you.

Harry swallowed hard and wiped a small tear from his cheek. —Thank you.

—Don't thank us, Harry. —Fionn said, equally sentimental.

Liam complained. —I want to hug him.

—We'll do it as soon as he comes to see the surprise. Make yourself at home, Harry. —He smiled at her in encouragement and headed for the door. —Liam, come on.

It had been about two hours, and Harry had been watching Tom & Jerry on TV, entertaining himself by eating leftover cake and drinking orange juice. It was finally when Mr. Whitehead woke up from his nap and suggested tidying up a bit before leaving that Harry got up and went to the kitchen, ready to wash his plate and glass. He returned to the living room, and placed his backpack on the couch with the others. He turned off the television when Mr. Whitehead had finished drinking something and went out with him to the car.

On the way they kept talking about the gift that Fionn had given Harry, about good music. They talked about Elvis Presley, the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. The curly boy preferred Elvis, but he also loved the other two groups.

They finally arrived in front of the village church, and Harry couldn't help but frown. Was there going to be a mass? He was about to become disillusioned, but his best friend's father handed him a piece of paper, which was a kind of map.

—Follow the instructions, and you'll find them there. —He said.

—Oh. —The curly boy unbuckled his belt before getting out, and thanked the "Happy Birthday" from the man in the vehicle before he accelerated and disappeared down the deserted streets of Holmes Chapel.

Harry made his way to the church, but he didn't climb the steps of the church, rather he went around it, just as it said on the map. He could hear music in the distance, and the further into the woods he went, the more audible and recognizable it was. He found himself shaking his head.

He used to hear that song when it was time for him to clean his room, because it was very lively, to hear it on good days. It went on and on, and the sound got even louder. Between the logs and the darkness, he visualized an exact place in the forest which seemed to have things there. He approached it with a little smile on his lips: He recognized a table with food and what looked like a big cake, a sign that went from one log to another that read "Happy Birthday, Harry" and pink and blue decorations, not to mention the record player with the vinyl spinning on it.

Finally he arrived, and looked down to fold the map. Where were his friends? He looked up again, and his smile was immediately erased as he visualized Liam on the floor, with a little blood on his temple and passed out... or so he hoped.

His whole body tensed, everything became cold as he felt someone standing behind him, in anticipation of what he would do. He felt the discomfort in his stomach, but no, it wasn't Louis. It was that discomfort he felt that night when he slept thinking the Devil was stroking his hair and he wasn't, or when someone tried to take his life in the bathtub.

He took a deep breath before turning around suddenly, and came face to face with Stella, who smiled at him slowly and creepily.

—Happy birthday.

He felt a blow to his head, his body hit the ground, and he fell asleep.

His eyes opened slowly, his eyelids were a little heavy while a strong headache made him hiss. He was cold, it was cold that night, and the music was gone. He took a deep breath, trying to stop seeing blurry.

—Finally. —He hears that voice again. It was Stella, she was his best friend's girlfriend. Finally his eyesight cleared, and he saw her walking slowly towards him. He tried to step back, but something seemed to be holding him in place. He watched her between frightened and frustrated. The girl raised both her eyebrows. —Oh, don't look at me like that. Now you're gonna tell me you didn't suspect a thing?

It couldn't be that all good things were short lived for him. He was so angry, and so, so, so scared.

—What should I suspect? —He said, without seeing her but having her close enough. He armed himself with courage. —That you're a bitch? —He would never call a woman like that, and he didn't. He wasn't talking to Stella, he was talking to the demon. A hard kick to his stomach made him gasp for air. He complained about the burning but still did everything he could to stay strong. —Where is Fionn?

—That's a "no." Wow, Harry, I thought you were less of a jerk. —It gave another kick to the boy's body on the floor, which made him bend over and pant again, but the demon went to the table where the cake was, taking the big blade that was on one side.. —Don't you recognize me in this body? —It cut a piece of cake and served it on a plate. —Maybe I should look sadder, more broken and rejected. —It faked a sad tone before turning around with the blade still in its hand.

Harry stared at her, with one hand on his stomach and swallowing the metallic taste in his mouth. Oh, he'd really been a fool. It had been obvious.

—Ruby.

Stella shrugged innocently. —Yeah, well. You could say that, that's how we met. —It starts to walk towards the boy's body, ignoring Liam's as it passes, and squats to match the curly boy. —Never mind that, really. The only thing that matters here is that you know I'm not the bad guy in the story. —It slowly shook its head, staring into the boy's green eyes. —Really, I'm not. You are.

Harry tries not to look too obvious when he notices Liam starting to stand quietly, holding a bottle of whiskey in one of his hands.

—First of all... —The demon continued, pointing at the curly boy's chest with the blade, pressing lightly to hurt him. —...you were the one who ran into the arms of the demon when our beloved Brad... —It paused and brought its free hand to its heart, nodding, with a false expression of grief. —...God rest his soul, he tricked your family. It was a simple punishment, just a few burns on your skin. It's a big difference to bleed to death because your penis was torn off, right?

Liam continues to approach very slowly, watching where he steps so as not to be noisy. Luckily, in that area of the forest, it was pure land. There weren't that many branches or grass. Harry stared at Stella and licked his lips before he spoke, as his nerves made his mouth dry.

—So my cousins ordered you to kill me.

—Look, I tried. I really did, but every time I tried... there he was. Even with his crows. Always watching you, and I couldn't risk it that fast, I know I don't have the same amount of power as him, but I'm really good at hiding. First in that sweet little girl, then in your idiot sister's boyfriend, I've been in Fionn's dad and, oh, I've even been in Liam. —It took the blade to the boy's neck, and the boy's skin became more bristly than usual. —I've always been around you, stalking you, and you've never noticed. But now he's gone. He's gone, Harry.. —It comments on Louis. Its smile gets bigger and closer to the boy's face. —Don't you ever think about why everyone leaves you? —It sighs as Harry begins to tear up. This was a nightmare. —I think it's time to embrace the trut-

It stopped when the bottle of scotch that had previously been in Liam's hands exploded against the girl's head, and the chilling thing was that the girl's expression stayed the same. Smiling, though in her eyes something changed. She reached out her hand, and Liam practically flew through the air, crashing into a log and falling to the ground.

Harry's mind traveled faster than usual, and in his head images of his notebook, the pages rushing to a stop on an exact sheet, that sheet which he had memorized just in case.

—Exorcizamus te, omnus immundus spiritu-

He couldn't go on because of the hard punch to his nose, which started bleeding immediately. He sobbed dryly in the severe pain but barely had time to grieve as he was grabbed by the chin and two blows left his face bloody.

—Omnis… omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio... —Liam continued, slowly standing up.

Stella starts shaking, squirming. Harry takes the opportunity to try and move. —LIAM, RUN!

He listens to him, starting to run out of the forest, looking for help, but he turns due to the strong gasp of the curly boy. The demon had shoved the blade under one of the boy's ribs, and he grunted in pain, tears streaming down his face.

—Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. —Liam continued as the demon wanted to move, but all it did was shake. Its eyes went from being like those of a normal human to becoming completely black. —Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te. —Liam steps back a little when the demon stands up in the midst of the shaking, wanting to walk towards him.

Harry removes the blade buried in his abdomen and holds his hand there, turning sideways and breathing in between gasps of pain. —Liam…

—Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae perditionis venenum propinare. —The boy says, and he takes another bottle, throwing it and failing. —Shit, shit, shit.

—Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis. —Harry continues as he does his best to stand up, succeeding and feeling the blood on his abdomen, on his face. He's so finished. —Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt. —His voice gets louder and louder.

Stella falls to her knees and grunts before screaming, her voice thick, distorted. She half-laughs, loudly, chillingly.

—WHY DON'T YOU OPEN YOUR PRESENT, HUH?! —She points in a direction behind Harry, but her arm twists as Liam continues, leaving her shaking, eyes closed and screaming.

—Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire te rogamus, audi nos.

Half leaning from the pain under his rib and noticing that Liam was in control of the situation, he turns to where the demon had pointed. He felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of a black bag, which had something in it.

**No.**

Stumbling, slowly, he made his way to the bag, and as he got closer, he could see a hand outside the bag.

—Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris, te rogamus, audi nos.

**No. No, no, no. No. No.**

He swings inches from the bag. It can't be. His body has stopped hurting, now only something burns deep in his chest, something he will never recover from in his life. Never, ever.

With fear, his hand trembling, already knowing, he opened the bag completely. His breath stopped.

_ Yes, of course. _

Harry had taken someone from them, and it was clear they would do the same to him. It was clear that the demon would seek out the closest thing Harry had to family as he was being protected by Louis.

And he didn't understand how everything suddenly stopped hurting, as if something took away his feelings and physical pain. Shock, cold, loss of blood, although it was probably Fionn Whitehead's lifeless body, cut up, more bloodstained than he was, with his eyes open and lost in a spot in the woods.

It was instantaneous to stop shaking, and he turned slowly, looking at his other friend.

—Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo. Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem et fortitudinem plebi Suae. BENEDICTUS DIUS! GLORIA PATRI! —Liam finishes that exorcism, and a long black smoke comes out of the teenager's mouth, which trembles and falls to the ground, unconscious. The demon hits a spot on the floor and the discomfort disappears just like that.

A deafening silence becomes present in that area of the forest. Liam seems to remember that his friend is barely standing, and quickly walks towards him, grabbing him by the face as he arrives. He looks lost, disoriented.

—You're fine, you're fine. Stay calm.

But Harry was. —I'm calm. —He said calmly, his voice barely audible. Liam frowned before looking behind the curly boy, and the latter could see the boy's brown eyes fill with tears. Harry's hands grabbed his friend's wrists. —L-Listen to me. —Liam looked at him again, and sobbed, nodding and tears streaming down his face. —You have to go, now. No one can know about this.

—Harry, it's Fionn...

—No one is going to believe us. Liam, please. —They stare at each other.

They knew that would be the last time they would see each other.

—Goodbye, Harry. —His voice breaks before he kisses the boy's forehead and moves his hands away from his face, taking a few steps backwards and passing by Stella's body. Liam notices that she is breathing. —She’s alive.

—Take her.

Liam nods and bows, placing his arms under the teenager's body, carrying her and walking out of that place without looking back.

The look of the curly boy remains lost before he turns around again, in the direction of that bag. He looks at his best friend's body, and even though he can't feel anything, his legs tremble and he falls to his knees, surrendering.

The Styles' house was packed with people from the village. The music was quiet, everyone was drinking and eating, talking to each other. It was turning out perfect. Gemma was talking to her friends on the sofa, Des was talking to Joffrey and Jacky and Anne was going around, making sure everyone got what they wanted, talking to some women from the church.

A slamming door came from the hall, along with many gasps of horror. He looked up when he heard a glass breaking on the floor.

—HARRY!

There was his son. His face was beaten and covered with blood, pale, his clothes dirty and a large bloodstain on his shirt. He was breathing deeply, with his eyes wide open, panic in his expression. Des left everything, approaching.

—No! —The boy exclaimed, extending his hand and backing away, trying not to fall. —No. D-Don't come any closer.

—Harry, baby! —Anne still wanted to approach him, but he wouldn't let her. —What happened to you? Love! Please.

—N-no… don't touch me. Don't touch me.

A man of all people approaches. —You need to get him to the hospital now. He's bleeding out. —He says, approaching. It was George Griffin, a doctor of record among all. —Come on, Harry. You need help. —He gets too close and holds his hand.

—DON'T TOUCH ME!

And, as if by magic, the man shoots into the air, banging his body against a wall before falling to the ground. Everyone seems to feel that uneasiness, which for them was the worst, but for Harry, oh, for Harry it was a relief.

Anne took a step back, scared. People began to despair and head for the backyard exit, escaping from that situation, all but Father William and the Styles family.

The boy didn't know if it was perhaps missing him with all his soul, but he could even sense where the Devil was. Hopefully, he hurried, staggered up the stairs, and began to climb them carefully. Father William extended his hand, pointing it at the curly boy.

He didn't know that hearing someone pray would hurt him like that time his father did, and he felt this fire coursing through his body. He groaned in pain, about to fall down the stairs forward, but he felt like something, Louis, to be specific, caught him, and took him in his arms.

—OH, MY GOD! —Anne gasped, crying and very frightened.

Everyone was silent when they saw that tall figure, dressed in black, with blood-colored eyes, perfect but terrifying. The Devil was visible for the first time in front of the other people, holding his husband, his favorite boy, who had been hurt, in his arms. Fury coursed through her veins, yet he looked up and slowly smirked.

—Pleasure to meet you personally. —He says. He raises his hand and moves his fingers slightly, causing all the doors to lock. Now they only had the living room, there was nowhere to escape. —Well, let the show begin.

It took a snap of his fingers for things to begin to break down and move abruptly out of place, damaging anyone who got between them. The light bulbs exploded into pieces and the Devil could see through the darkness. He turned gracefully and climbed the steps, holding his boy to his chest and hearing the screams of fright from the Styles and the few people left in the room.

Harry complained in his arms, writhing in pain.

—Sh, sh. —The Devil looked scared for the first time in his life. He went to the terrace stairs, the terrace where they had danced under the blood moon.

The door opens by itself with a thud, and Louis rushes to kneel on the floor, laying his boy in his arms, who watches him in pain, weak and with tears falling from his eyes.

—Lou…

Louis holds him from behind with one arm, and his free hand goes to his face, wanting to hold him still to heal him. Harry notices and closes his eyes, shaking them off.

—No…

—You're too weak, don't talk. —He orders. —Open your eyes.

—I... —He sobs, he hurts. Everything was a nightmare. —...killed him. I killed him..

—Who? Harry, whatever happened, it's not your fault. —The curly boy nods. Of course it was. None of this would have happened if it wasn't for him. Louis pulls his face closer and their noses brush against each other. —it's not. —He growls. —I know because I know you, and you're not capable of something like that. —Harry sobs louder, squirming. The burning is killing him, but he had to endure it. —Look at me. Harry. —He called, and he took him by the chin carefully. The boy shook his head, with his eyes closed. He refused to be cured. —Harry!

—No!

—Harry, look at me or I'm gonna kill your fucking mother. —If Harry died, he'd kill them all.

The boy quickly opens his eyes, believing his husband's words, and the two of them stare at each other. Slowly the burning begins to fade, and now there is only a metallic taste in his mouth. He still feels the warmth of the blood on his torso, and Louis doesn't seem to notice that deep cut under his rib.

They look at each other for a moment before Harry looks behind the Devil and squeezes his grip on his arm, he turns his face to look at the thing that frightened his favorite boy so much. He discovered Death standing, just watching.

—No. —Louis held his boy better, against his chest. Death let out a slight squeal. —I SAID NO! —He screamed, and the scream of Death was louder before it faded, frightened. Louis covered Harry's ears at the sound that might affect him in his condition, and then watched him completely, finally noticing the shirt with a large bloodstain. He lifted it up, and watched the cut and the blood flowing from it. —No. No. Fuck!

—Louis…

—No, shut up. —He interrupted, and pressed his ringed hand against the wound as he saw the boy struggling to stay sane. —I'm not letting you die, you hear me? I'm the fucking Devil, and I decide this. I decide whether you die or not, understand?

He clearly knew that that wasn't true, he had no control over the boy's decisions and therefore wasn't the one to decide whether he would continue to live. But he...

—Harry, I'm nothing without you.

The curly boy sobbed, relieved and weakly extending his hand to bring Louis closer. Both pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss that lasted a few seconds.

—You have to take me to a hospital, and you can't. —Harry started, both of them staring at each other. Transporting could hurt him more, he was in no condition. He sighed in a short sigh and stared at the Devil's lips before returning to those eyes that had been gawking at him. —I can't feel my legs, Lou.

—I can heal you. —He said, desperate. —Please. Let me heal you.

Harry nodded. He'd never say no to him. Never.

The hand on Harry's abdomen began to warm up a little, as if some kind of energy was soothing him. He could feel the blood stop flowing from the wound, and when he almost felt the wound completely shut, the roof door opened, and Father William's voice rose in a Latin prayer.

Harry screamed, squirming, and Louis didn't give a shit about everything. He waved his hand and that man was thrown through the door again, falling down the stairs. The Devil's gaze returned to his little boy's face and he froze as he watched him try to breathe, spitting blood out of his mouth and shaking, just watching him.

Louis breathed out.

There was only one way to save him.

He stroked his face before positioning his face in front of his.

—I'm sorry for this, little one. —He says, and they stare at each other. —Let me save you.

Harry tries to talk, but he can't. He just nods, giving him permission.

He feels the air leaving his body, and he thinks he's about to die, but his mouth opens involuntarily and he can feel this kind of dust going into his throat, giving him an itchy feeling. His eyes close, and after a few more seconds he takes a breath.

—Harry! —Calls and footsteps are heard on the stairs, until finally Des and Father William arrive again on the terrace, the latter with a little blood on his forehead. Anne tries to climb up behind her husband. —Anne, stay there! Get Gemma out of the house!

He looks ahead again, and his son is standing with his back to both of them.

—Harry?

The child seems to sigh deeply before turning around. His face is inexpressive, a little conceited as seconds go by and his eyes are completely red.

A sly and flirtatious smile appears on the child's face. —Wrong. —He says, and waves his hand, this time throwing both men down the stairs.

Yes, he would heal his boy, but in the meantime…

This was going to be so much fun.


	27. XXIV. "New Beginnings"

Harry was alive. Barely.

Rarely did the angels have the other person's permission to possess them, but Louis didn't care. Louis couldn't let Harry die, it just wasn't right, this wasn't the boy's destiny and, honestly, he didn't care if it was. He was going to save him, by hook or by crook.

The archangels were strong, Harry would be cured immediately if the Devil wanted him to be. He was cursed, but he could still heal humans, even though he had never done so before. The boy had been the first.

He sighed. It was strange to be shorter, it was strange to be his husband. He walked down the steps that had led him to the terrace, and no one was on the second floor. Everyone was underneath where they had been at first. There was crying, which was probably from her mother-in-law, and people were communicating quickly, nervously. Louis arrived at the staircase, but stood there, not going down, and staring at the people as he carried one of his small, delicate hands into his front trouser pocket, with the other resting on the railing, raising his face a little higher, showing superiority to all the filthy human beings in that house. Each one of them was the worst.

There was only Anne, Gemma, Des and Father William, who was holding his head because of the blood emanating from a cut that at first sight seemed light but was somewhat deep.

Nothing to die for.

Anne took a step before Des took her arm, but she never took her eyes off her son's body.

—Harry? Baby? —Her voice trembled. The boy's eyebrows rose, and his head slowly tilted with a cynical, sly smile on his lips as he watched the woman fall to her knees, sobbing. —P-Please bring him back to me. Please.

—Anne...

—Please...

—Yes, Anne. —Louis spoke with his boy's voice sounding calm and dry, as cold as his body. —Patience. I won't kill Harry, you can all go on mistreating him as usual. —He finished, starting to walk down the stairs patiently.

Father William held his hand up to the Devil in the boy's body, but the latter was quicker, and before the worldling could even recite anything, he blew him to the wall in a harsh and painful manner.

—Don't tell me what to do, you stupid old man.. —Despite the insult, he continued to sound calm. —You, your church and your God can kiss my ass. Not this one, of course. —He clarifies. —Only I can kiss this one. —He nods slowly before turning to the Styles family, watching his mother-in-law kneel at his feet, still sobbing loudly.

—Please let him go.. —She begs. —Let him go...

—Okay! —He exclaims, pretending to cheer up. —But tell me "Please" again. —Clearly messing with her. He smiles a little when he sees the anger mixed with fear in everyone's eyes.

—Please… I beg you.

Okay. It's not like Louis liked her at all, but she was the mother of his boy. Despite her absurd beliefs, she made the best snack when Harry was sick, took him to bed, slept with him when he had nightmares, threw him surprise parties, went to pick him up from school and always tried to treat him with the utmost kindness. He inhaled, looking up for a few seconds, thinking before he exhaled deeply and squatted in front of the woman. He put one hand to the woman's chin, who looked up in terror and sadness, and stared at her for a few seconds.

—Just do as I say, and everything will be fine. —He said, and the woman, still sobbing, nodded. Louis stood up again. —Stand up. —He ordered.

The woman did so immediately and Louis took a few steps back, turning and running a hand across his husband's chin. Oh, Harry. He had to heal quickly, because his patience was weakening as the seconds passed, and the urge to make everyone pay grew in his chest.

He turned. —I'll explain, have a seat. —He pretended a gentle tone before moving his hand. The armchairs of the place moved abruptly to where the mundanes were, and the mundanes were seated by force except for Father William, who was still glued to the wall. Louis began to walk slowly around the room. —As much as I like being inside your son, there will come a point when I will have to get out, as always. But I want you to know something... —He stopped and watched everyone seriously. He was trying to restrain himself, he really was. —...vi y veré cada cosa que ustedes hagan con mi niño favorito.

Anne shook her head. —He's not yours. He's not! Let him go!

 _Fuck_.

Were humans that stupid? Although Louis was the Devil, and he and Harry had made a deal, the boy was his, after that he was just a person. Of course, Louis used to tell Harry that it was his, that he belonged to him, because the curly boy liked to hear it, but he knew perfectly well that it wasn't literal. Harry wasn't his property, he wasn't his slave or toy, he was a person. He was his husband, his human weakness, his soulmate, and yet he didn't belong to him. 

And he really wasn't going to respond to that stupidity, but then the old man of the church spoke again. Louis slowly let go of whatever patience he had until his boy healed. It was like taking care of wild animals, even though they would probably behave better.

—He’s ours. —That man said, and it sounded so disgusting coming out of his mouth. It was normal for his mother to say that, but who did he think he was? Slowly, Louis turned around, with his beautiful little boy's eyes getting even redder than they already were. —He belongs to our people. He has God's protection.

Louis smirks, causing a dimple to appear on one of his husband's cheeks. —Mr. Depraved Priest, your comments are starting to get on my nerves.

—God is merciful and-

—God doesn't give a shit about you.. —He tucks both hands into his pants pockets, turning to look at the Styles. —God doesn't give a shit about you, and that's why I'm here.

Father William began to pray, and with him Anne and Gemma, holding hands. You could tell they were praying with hope, intensity. He cursed himself as he felt the muscles in his boy's body tighten a little and laughed falsely as he ran his boy's hand through his curls.

—Hey, it's rude to interrupt someone. —He warned, and stared into the eyes of Des Styles, who was the only one who kept quiet.

**_Harry, I’m sorry._ **

—Okay, you know what? —He took one hand out of his front trouser pocket and snapped his fingers. It was as simple as that which blew Father William's head to pieces, splashing blood and bits around him, staining Harry's shirt and face.

Anne and Gemma were immediately silent, their breath shaking with fear of being next, affected by the impact. Louis shrugged his shoulders selflessly, raising his arms a little.

—I warned him. I warned him that he was annoying me, and he continued.

—Harry, I know you're there...

Louis sighed before turning his back on the family. —Des, control your wife before she starts getting on my nerves, too.

—Anne, shut up. —The man ordered, remarkably nervous.

—Ha-Harry...

—Anne, shut your mouth! —He exclaimed, raising his voice. The woman fell silent, sobbing between rapid breaths. Des watched her in pain. He didn't want this either, he didn't want this for his son, but he didn't need more than one dead person. —Don't worry, it'll pass. Take a deep breath, just wait. —The woman blinked, releasing a couple of tears before nodding slowly, breathing deeply.

Louis turned, smirking and causing the dimple to become visible again on his favorite boy's cheek. —Ironic to be reassured by the person who hurt you the most. —He mumbled, taking a few steps forward, toward the woman. Des took her hand to keep her close. —You're the only decent person in this house, who has never mistreated my husband. I must say... you and I should get along, we're practically family. —He clearly didn't mean it. Louis was enjoying the psychological damage he was inflicting on the Styles, because he had been putting up with them for too long.

The woman frowned in confusion as her lip trembled. She was really very much like Harry, but no. She wasn't Harry. No one was like Harry.

—H-Husband?

Louis was silent as he sat down in front of the woman slowly, with his legs slightly apart and his hands together, fingers interlocked and head tilted. Anne still couldn't believe what was happening, because that wasn't Harry. That wasn't her baby. The color of his eyes wasn't that beautiful green, and his movements were fluid, confident.

The Devil has always been that fear that is around, but you tell yourself that it doesn't exist, and you imagine him as a man of hysterical laughter, trill in hand and death everywhere. Yet here he was, sitting in front of her, calm, knowing what to do, what to say, creating chaos with a disturbing tranquility and wearing her son as a suit. Her baby.

He was staring at her, and that's when Anne understood that Harry wasn't there.

—Didn't he tell you? —He talked calmly, pretending to be indignant and raising both eyebrows. —Don't worry, it must be the lack of confidence you guys give him. I don't blame him, that's why I'm here. —He commented as the woman's sobs became more audible than before, painful for everyone except Louis.

—Mom... —Gemma whispered, frightened and also beginning to cry, still staring at Father William's headless body.

—Do you have any idea how much trouble your son has been through? —The Devil continued, not taking his eyes off his mother-in-law. —You never knew, because you don't know him well enough to know he's lying. Guess who was the only one there for him? —He smirked, hoping not to have to answer.

—Stop. That's enough. —This time it was Des who raised his voice, shaking slightly as he quickly shook his head. Louis watched him almost immediately, creepily. —Just leave. Leave him alone.

Anne noticed that the Devil inside her son's body was staring at her husband. That meant silent chaos, again.

—We're his family, it's up to us to be there for him. I know it hasn't... I know it hasn't always been like that, but it will be. —He tried to reassure the thing that was controlling his son's body.

Louis slowly stood up, taking two steps until he was in front of the father of his boy. He bent down, resting his hands on the armrests of the single sofa where the worldling was sitting, and stood with Harry's face inches away from Des's, staring into his eyes. The curly boy's eyes were dark and his pupils were very dilated.

The little smile on his face slowly faded as the paintings and crucifixes of the house, which were already upside down, shook sharply.

—...And who the fuck do you think you are to tell me what to do? Who the fuck made you think you're a good father now, you fucking scumbag? —He quickly straightens up and shakes his hand sharply, causing the couch to fall backwards, and with this Des. Anne gasped, frightened at the sight of such a scene while Gemma sobbed. —He still has scars on his back caused by your stupidity. —He spits, moving his hand. This time Des is thrown across the room, bumping into the wall and hitting a table, causing things on the table to fall.

—Des, no!

—Dad!

The named man complained audibly, trying to get up, holding onto the table. His son's hand shook and he was stuck against the wall.

—You didn't see the pain in his eyes when you tried to exorcise him, and worst of all, he was less hurt by the pain than he was by the fact that his own father tried to hurt him. —He snarled, and in anger shook his hand again, sending him across the room with more force than before. He turned so that he could look at him as things hanging on the wall continued to fall. —If it were up to me, you would have spent all your eternity in hell, but your son saved you, and this is how you repaid him, by not being there for him.

Flames of fire rose out of nowhere over Father William's body. Gemma screamed as Anne began to call her husband and he, already sobbing, made a great effort to get up. Louis only rolled his eyes at their reactions. What did they expect? That he would go leaving a headless man in the room? Of course not, he knew how to clean up his messes, and he didn't want any trouble for Harry when he woke up.

The smell of burned skin spread as the fire slowly ceased with a gentle movement of the devil's fingers. It was time, he could feel it.

—Take care of him. —He said. —And fear me, for I will be watching you, and I will not hesitate to burn this house down until... until... —His voice trembled as did his knees, and he could feel blood flowing from his nose. Awake. He was awake. He wouldn't be able to resist it much. —...until you can smell... your bodies burning.

Maybe just for a goodbye.

He simply fell to the ground and slowly became unconscious, feeling his boy's body shaking uncontrollably and hearing the Styles' screams.

Everything was beautiful in that place.

The sun hitting some parts, the spring breeze that wasn't cold, just refreshing. Everything smelled of flowers, and his mood was improved by the laughter of the children in the distance, playing on the swings. He was under a big tree. He had been there many times in his life, years ago, and he always went to the same place.

He hears steps approaching slowly, someone sitting next to him, and can recognize him even without turning around. A sweet little dimpled smile comes to his lips before he turns his face and looks up at his husband, who sits down next to him and stares at him.

—Lou...

Louis can't help but smirk. He looks so pretty, so calm. He has little flower petals between his curls, which look lighter in the light, just like his eyes. He can't help but take his little hand and slowly start kissing his knuckles, while looking at him.

Harry feels tickles in his stomach, and sighs, gawking. He wants to stay like this forever.

Finally, Louis moves his husband's hand away from his mouth, but he doesn't let go. —You like this place?

Harry looks around before he nods. —It's the town's central park, it's near the school. It's where you asked me to get engaged, only in winter there aren't as many people, but when it's spring... it looks beautiful. We used to come with my family when I was little and spend the afternoon together.

Louis' countenance changes, remarkably serious. He even looks frustrated. —You should've told me earlier. —He whispers, slowly shaking his head. —I would have thought of it sooner.

Harry frowns as he gets closer to the Devil, resting his cheek on his shoulder. —What?

—When we celebrated our year of engagement, I did nothing but spend it with you in your room. We had sex, we talked, and I never thought about bringing you here.

—Hey... —Harry was in such a good mood that he even joked about being offended, raising his face and squinting at the strong sunlight. —I liked how we spent our anniversary.

—You deserved better. —The devil clarifies, swallowing. A little silence falls before he looks down, meeting the beautiful eyes of his boy. —This is what I meant about being the Devil. Everything is much more difficult beside me, because I'm not made to love. I deteriorate you, and I can't even take you out to dinner at a place you like on our fucking anniversary. —He's remarkably upset with himself.

—Lou, you couldn't have taken me to dinner even if you were human. We'd be out on the street by now for being two men.

—I'm not made to deserve you.

Harry frowns, feeling concern in his chest. He had never seen Louis release his thoughts like that, because the Devil had always been flirtatious, and showed superiority to anyone, and rarely revealed his thoughts, but these... were really dark thoughts.

Louis didn't love himself. Not really.

—Lou, you... you shouldn't say that. You're not bad. —He opens his mouth again and again, but nothing comes out. He's desperate, because he doesn't know how to make him feel better. —I know... you haven't received love in a long time, probably your whole existence, but I assure you that you will now. You are loved, I love you more than anyone would ever love. —He swallows hard. —And that's all that matters.

Louis stares at him for a few long seconds. —Harry, you know you're not really here, right? —The boy just looks at him confused. —You're probably in the hospital right now, you suffered a seizure. You're healed now, and your body isn't strong enough to hold me.

The boy looks down, and suddenly thousands of images run through his head. His ring-less hand, crying, birthdays, tickets to a Frank Sinatra show, forest, Stella, Ruby, Liam, demon, Fionn, surprise party, Louis, terrace, Death, blood... 

—Oh, no. —He quickly brings his hands to his little eyes, covering them. He doesn't want to see anymore, he doesn't want to remember that. It can't be. Was it all real?

—Harry...

The day seems to get noticeably cloudy, the breeze becomes cold, the children's laughter becomes inaudible. It's winter, but not a nice one, but a cold one, where there is no warm place to relax.

The curly boy slowly shakes his head as the tears soon fall down his cheeks. He uncovers his face after wiping his cheeks. Devastated, that was the word, or perhaps a worse one. Nothing that had happened to him before compared to this.

—I... being here made me forget. It felt like a new life, I mean... I wanted it to be. —His voice is slightly muffled and he takes a deep breath to control the crying. —I really wanted this to be real.

—I know, love. —If Harry wasn't so ruined, if he'd stayed as he was a few minutes ago, he'd be jumping at that nickname now.

He shook his head. —You say you don't deserve me? At least you're the Devil, you were forced to be like this. I'm a human, and I became a monster. —His voice trembles, his gaze is lost as new tears fall from his cheeks.

Louis grunts. No, he can't allow this. —It's not like that. —He says, reaching out and grabbing him by the cheeks. —Look at me. Harry, look at me. —The curly boy takes his gaze to the love of his life. He now has red eyes, sweeping away the blue. —It's not like that...

—Lou, I killed Fionn. —He says. He can't even believe how he could say it out loud, so normally, when he's dying inside. A silence appears as Louis holds him, shaking his head. —I did it. That thing came for me, and it found him. Cut him up alive, put his body in a bag... and he's still there. —He doesn't understand how, but for some reason, he doesn't seem to be going crazy. He seems to assimilate it, though he really doesn't because his voice trembles, and tears continue to fall down his face. —His father is alone, all he had was his son and I took him away. —He swallows before he sets his sights on a lost spot. He can barely breathe from the pain. —I killed my best friend.

Louis can't do anything but squeeze him against his chest. He can feel his boy's pain as if it were his own, and it was because of the great connection between the two. It was one of those few times when the archangel was mute, but this time it was different. He wasn't speechless, but he knew there was nothing to heal that wound, and he wanted to protect him. He wanted to protect him from everything.

He should have protected him, he should have taken better care of him.

—Harry, there's nothing I can say that can fix this. —He brought a hand to his husband's curls, gently caressing him as if he were too fragile to break with the slightest touch. He had to be careful, as he had never been. —But I'll tell you the truth, even if it doesn't fix anything. It wasn't your fault. Nothing that's ever happened to you is your fault.

Finally Harry sobs silently, trembling in the arms of the love of his life. No, he definitely hadn't managed to assume anything, and unfortunately he still had feelings. He cried loudly but silently in the Devil's chest, who caressed his back, his curls, and kissed his forehead.

—Sh, take it easy. I'm here with you...

—Y-You should have let me die.

—How could I? —Louis answers immediately, laughing dryly in the middle of the sentence, with his lips stuck in his boy's curls. —How could I have let you die, knowing the person you are? How could I abandon you, when you are the only one for me? —He closes his eyes tightly.. —How could I have let you die without letting you know that I have come to love you even more than you could ever love?

Harry collapses, sobbing loudly and wrapping his arms around the older man's torso, hiding in it. It's a mixture of relief, sadness and peace. It's a mixture of feelings that keep running through his chest, leaving him stunned. He tried to stop her crying, to stop wetting his husband's black shirt.

—I... I love you.

Louis raised his face, holding it to his cheeks, and they closed their eyes tightly before planting their lips on each other's lips, moving them with passion, depth, feeling every part of their mouths, enjoying every sensation, every little second.

One of Louis' hands full of beautiful rings went to the back of his favorite boy's neck, holding him by the curls to keep him close, stopping the deep kiss when little sobs escaped him and he tried to comfort him with caresses and soft but short kisses on his mouth.

For Harry, Louis was the love of his life, and for Louis, Harry was the love of his existence. His soulmate. He had felt him being just a soul, the moment he was created. He felt it in his chest, and this feeling led him to him. It was like a call from destiny, something he couldn't and wouldn't refuse.

Long minutes later, he pulls away and wipes Harry's tears better. Now he is serious, staring at the curly boy, and he knew that when Louis had that look, it was because he would say something that he didn't want to and couldn't repeat twice.

—Listen to me carefully. —He says. Harry nods, sipping his little nose. —The demon that killed Fionn is in hell. I'm gonna take care of it, I'm gonna get revenge for you, I'm gonna make it pay for every second you suffered. —Harry nods as he squeezes his lips, trying not to cry inconsolably, again. —I have to go now, for a short time.

—What? No. No, you can't leave now. You can't...

—Harry. —He interrupts him.. —You know I don't give a fuck about your family, but they'll be watching you. What happened to you is no small thing, and they'll want to make sure I'm not with you. They're going to hurt you, and I'm not going to stand it. —He explains, sighing as he continues to wipe away the tears that flow down the boy's cheeks. —But I’ll be back.

—You won’t... —He sobs, hurting and shaking even more. —...Y-you're just saying that so I don't hurt, so I can hold on. You're not coming back...

—No. Look at me. Look at me, Harry. I will. I promise I will. I'm going to come back, I have to come back... I have to bring you back.

Silence falls for a few seconds. —B-Bring me back?

Louis stares at him. —Wait for me, okay? You have to wait for me.

—Lou? —It's almost instantaneous to start feeling his body tired, heavy, enough to end up leaning on the Devil's chest. His eyes close. —L-Lou...

He heard his husband's voice telling him something, but he couldn't figure out what.

He fell asleep.

Days later, his eyes finally opened.

He blinked slowly, looking around. White room, something injected into his forearm, someone arranging things next to him.

Hospital. He was in a hospital.

...oh.

—Hey, you're finally awake. —The woman says cheerfully, taking a notebook and verifying what it says. —Harry Styles, I'm Dr. Lee. Do you remember what happened to you?

Of course he remembered...

...but for some strange reason, it didn't affect him.

—Yes. —He answers. Even his voice sounds strange. —What day is it?

—It's been four days since the incident. —The woman answers, writing down a couple of things in her notebook. —Are you in any pain?

—No. —He sighs, tired before moving around a bit, trying to sit up. The nurse quickly helps him, looking surprised. His head should hurt at least. A miracle, perhaps? —I need to check you to make sure you're completely okay, but I'll go tell your family. They've been waiting outside for a long time. I'll get some water, and maybe you can have some soup, little boy.

Harry just watched her leave, sitting there, and watched himself. He looked at his hands, and he wiggled his little toes, and he touched his face... What had changed?

Because there was no longer a void. Clearly Louis was gone, but it didn't affect him much.

Nothing affected him at all.

He tried to remember something deep, something he knew would hurt. He visualized the image of his best friend dismembered, dead, looking lost.

...

Nothing.

And maybe it was a mild suspicion, maybe Harry was just tired and needed to eat or drink but... there was a strong possibility...

...No. It wasn't hunger, it wasn't thirst. It was a probability.

The Devil had kept his end of the bargain.

His soul was gone. And did it affect him?

Not at all.

It was a new beginning, a different way of looking at things... and he would enjoy it. To the fullest.


	28. XXV. "Void"

A day after he woke up, he was out.

He could have left even hours after he woke up, because thanks to the archangel he was in perfect condition, but the doctors found that strange, and decided to keep him under observation for one more day before letting him go. Harry was already known in that hospital because of the thousands of times his parents had taken him, and more recently because of everything that had happened, so people truly suspected something strange.

His family looked scared at first, when they started talking to him. As soon as they brought him into the house - _ it was a quiet, uncomfortable trip _ \- they made him stay in the living room, lie down there. They called a priest from the church where Father William used to be, too, and asked for him to bless the house and check that Harry had nothing in or next to him.

So David arrived, blessed every part of the house, cleaned up all the bad vibes - _ which he said were there, and plenty of them _ \- and also checked on Harry. He allowed them to do what they wanted with him, because he didn't care.

The day had gone by normally. The curly boy had spent it in his room. When he entered, he just sat on his bed and touched the blankets, feeling the texture of them. He tried to remember deep things, things he knew used to kill him with pain, but no. Nothing damaged his chest, nothing made him have emotions.

_ Nothing. _

But he still wasn't sure. He needed confirmation, because he might be in shock.

He went to take a bath, got dressed, and tidied up his room. He moved the furniture around, and made room on the table where he did his schoolwork, removing the hidden vinyl from under his bed and placing it in an organized way. Why would he hide it? He was no longer afraid.

Then he just went upstairs to eat, and he wasn't hungry, but he did it anyway. He kept quiet while the Styles tried to engage in happy conversation, pretending nothing had happened, that everything was fine and they hadn't witnessed death, chaos. Mainly, pretending not to know that their youngest son had married the Devil.

It was time to go to sleep, and sleep wouldn't appear for the whole night until 8 a.m., when he finally fell asleep, just two hours. And he was tired, but it didn't affect him like it really should.

_ He didn't dream at all. _

When he went upstairs for breakfast he only met his mother, who was clearly crying. Her face was red, her eyes were watering and her cheeks were wet. She quickly wiped her face when she saw her son arrive in the kitchen. She didn't want him to worry, but he didn't anyway.

—Good morning, mom.. —He said, walking over to the counter, preparing his breakfast.

He looked for a cup, his tea and put water to boil before looking for the sugar.

He heard his mother sip her nose. —Harry... we need to talk. Please, sit down.

He turned with a slight frown and nodded before turning again. —In a minute, mom. I'll just pour my tea, and we'll talk.

—Baby... I need to talk to you now. —She sobbed, covering her face and again starting to cry in silence.

Harry didn't even flinch. As if his mother wasn't there, he even mentally hummed an Elvis Presley song, pulling the kettle away from the fire and pouring the water into the cup, drinking it and going over to a chair, sitting down and sighing before starting to stir the tea.

—I’m listening.

Anne looked at him with a slight frown, wiping her cheeks again. She was surprised that her son didn't run to her and ask if anything had happened to her. He didn't look worried, he even looked disinterested. She ignored that and sat down in front of the curly boy, staring at him before taking him by the hand, causing him to look at her.

—Harry, today… I.... —She stopped at the tremor of her chin. —...the police were here today.

—What did they want?

Anne sighed, looking down. —They... found... 

—Fionn is dead. —Harry completed. Anne looked at him in surprise and anguish, starting to cry again. —I knew that..

—I'm so sorry, honey. —She gave him a gentle squeeze on his hand before releasing him. Harry put the tea bag on a napkin. —The police, they... they wanted to talk to you. I told them you were a bit delicate, if they could please do it later. They agreed. —She was wiping away her tears again. She wouldn't stop crying.

Harry just drank his tea, nodding. —Mom, is there any toast?

The woman stared at him, and now she was beginning to get a little indignant, unable to avoid the fact that basically her son cared little and nothing about the death of his best friend. She swallowed, she nodded and stood up, going to get the toast.

She stopped halfway through before turning around. She remembered her son before the chaos. He was covered in blood!  _ Did he...? _

—Harry. —Her voice shook when she called him. The boy looked up, staring at her seriously. —You... you killed...? No, no. You didn't... do it, did you?

Harry blinked slowly. —Yes. —He answered. The older woman's hands began to tremble before she could lean back on the stove. Her whole body was sweating with nervousness and fear.

Because if Harry had killed his best friend, that adorable boy, and he was saying it so coldly, more worried about not eating toast than about being a murderer and already confirmed that he had nothing inside, then he had become a real psychopath.

Not only that, but if that came out, plus she and her family might not be welcome in the church and town, Harry would go to jail. And she was betting anything that, because of the way they had found Fionn's body, they would immediately execute him in the electric chair.

She couldn't allow that, because that wasn't her child.  _ He wasn't her baby. _

—Harry... Tell me this is a joke. —She sobbed and walked over, grabbing him by the face. —Tell me you didn't. Tell me you didn't hurt him like that, you didn't kill him. You didn't see him die.

Harry continues watching her. —Well, it wasn't exactly me. I was the reason he's dead, but I didn't kill him literally. —He clarified. His mother calmed down a bit and, again, she had to sit down. She really couldn't believe it. Harry finished what was left of his tea before he spoke again. —Remember Louis?

Anne shook her head.

—The Devil. That's his name. —He explained. Anne's whole body tensed up. Harry stretched out in his chair. —He defended me from Brad when he lied to Dad about me smoking. He also gave Dad a heart attack, because he was about to hurt me.

—...I-

—So Louis killed Brad. —He kept talking. Anne's eyes opened wide, her heart beating too fast and too hard. —Ben and Bob decided to have their revenge. They made a pact with a demon to kill me. The demon couldn't, because I had the devil with me, so Ben, Bob and the demon changed the deal. They killed one of the people I loved most, just like Louis did with them. Only Fionn was good. —He shrugged innocently.

His mother sobbed softly. She was lost, she had no idea what to do because her boy was acting like a complete lunatic, and after seeing everything she saw that day, she believed him. She knew it was true, but the others wouldn't believe her.

—How... how will I do? You're a suspect, Harry. They want to talk to you. —She raised her voice a little, shaking and trying to calm her breath. —They could execute you for believing you killed him. You could die.

—No problem. —He tucked his curls aside. —There'll be no problem in confessing that I killed him.

—Harry, it wasn't like that! —She exclaims, desperate. —You're a child! You don't know what you're doing, you didn't know what you were getting into! It's not your fault, baby!

—I don't feel guilty, mom. —He stood up, took the cup and took it to the sink, washing it before putting it back on the cabinet. He turned on his heels to look at his mother, who looked surprised, even a little afraid. —I'm not afraid to die, and there's no way they'll believe a demon killed him.

—Harry, you can't confess. —She stood up quickly, walking towards the boy, and with shaking hands grabbed him by the face. —P-Please. Baby, please tell me you're not gonna confess. Tell me you won't.

—Okay.

—No, no. —She doesn't let him get away. —You... you have to promise. You have to tell the police that it wasn't you, that Fionn wasn't there when you arrived, just you and Liam.

—They'll blame Liam.

—Harry, someone has to get hurt in this... and it won't be you. You... are my love. You're my lovely little boy. I need to protect you, because you don't deserve any more bad things. You need care.

Harry just stared at her. He might not feel anything, he might not be attracted to everything that used to fascinate him, he might not love anymore... but that doesn't mean he would do anything wrong. He was smart, and he knew what was wrong and right, even if he didn't really feel it.

—I'm not gonna throw the burden on Liam, because it's not right. —He says, holding his mother's hands carefully away from his face. —I won't say anything, if that's what you want. I can try something else.

—What will you do?

—...I'll think about it. I have to go to school. Bye, mom. —Without even a touch, not even a kiss on the cheek or forehead, he headed for his room.

Two weeks had passed.

The cops were keeping Harry as a possible suspect, because he seemed so insensitive when it came to telling the story of his friend's murder. He had spoken to Liam a few days earlier, who also acted aloof. It wasn't the same anymore. Not without Fionn.

They commented on what they would say, repeated it to keep it in their heads. Liam was the first to confess, and finally it was Harry's turn. That was, this time for good, the last time he saw him.

_ "I was waiting at Fionn's house with Mr. Whitehead, he took me to the supposed place where they were going to have the surprise party. When I got there, I couldn't find Liam, I couldn't find Fionn. Finally I found him in the bag, with his body cut up and..." _ He shook his head, faking grief.  _ "Liam arrived later, we both went into shock. We still can't believe it, and we don't know who did it.” _

And so, as the days went by, the police continued to search, but not really. They never really care.

The days passed. Harry had gone back to that library where he found the book of invocation to call Louis, wanting to solve that matter of which he was not sure. Had his soul really disappeared?

However, until that day, he had not found a single book that mentioned anything on the subject. How was it possible that there was a book with a true invocation to the true king of the underworld, but there wasn't even a theory about the soul? At least how to return it?

**The real question was, did he really want his soul back?**

He returned every day with books that he would return the next day, to take others. Harris the receptionist allowed Harry to take out what he wanted, because before Louis, he used to go and read a lot, and that woman, seeing him again after long months, allowed him to take any books he wanted, and even gave him two as gifts.

It was when he entered his room, holding eight books stacked in his arms and two in each hand, when he tried to turn on the light and finally succeeded, that he appeared.

There was his supposed husband, standing near the bed, with his blue-red eyes looking at him with longing. He looked as if he hadn't seen him in a long time, and as if he wanted to take him in his arms, press him to his chest, smell his hair and stay like that forever.

Harry watched him just a few seconds before turning around and putting the books on his desk, carefully. He arranged these a bit so they wouldn't fall over.

—What are you doing here? —He asked.

Louis frowned slightly, puzzled. —...What?

—Well, you left. I didn't think you'd come back. —The curly boy answered, searching through the books, finally finding a smaller one which, perhaps and with luck, would serve him. He opened it, taking it in his hands and turning, leaning against the desk and starting to read.

The book slammed shut in his hands, and Harry sighed, opening it again. Again, it closed but, unlike the last time, it shot across the room.

—Louis…

—Look at me.

The Devil believed that his husband would obey him when he saw him walking in his direction, but as soon as he stopped halfway and bent down to pick up his book from the ground, he knew that he wouldn't.

Louis grunted once when he saw the boy straighten up and open the book, and he strides in front of him, taking the book and holding his chin. His husband stared at him, blinking very slowly.

He looked beyond, and he found nothing. Harry's pupils were dull, he could even feel himself trapped in that core of nothing itself. There was nothing in those eyes that he loved.

How was it possible? He had taken it upon himself to go back to Hell, had taken it upon himself to check if his soul was there, and when he didn't find it, one of his most trusted demons had informed him that Harry's soul was already in his body. He decided to wait to return, though he had sent a crow. He knew that his favorite boy was going to be crushed, and he had to be careful that nothing was done until he could return.

Time in hell was much faster than on earth, so about a month had passed. He couldn't stand it any longer, he was dying, even though he knew it wasn't possible, to see him, to have him.

So, yeah. This was a surprise, not a pleasant surprise at all, and it made his eyes glaze over in less than a second.

Harry raised his eyebrows a little. —Do you notice anything strange? Can you tell? —The Devil's ring-filled hand left his favorite boy's chin and took a step back.

—Your soul... It’s gone.

Harry nodded quickly before turning around, heading for the desk. —Don't be so impressed, you did what you had to do, and you even made it easier for me to find. —He commented, doing his best to comfort him, although clearly he didn't because he didn't say it honestly.

He took his school bag and started to empty it on the bed. He wasn't going to go back with all the books in his arms, he was going to be smarter this time. The pens and notebooks fell on his bed, followed by an envelope. He frowned and dropped the backpack, taking it and opening it.

**“—I have this gift here for you, and it's the only thing I'm going to give you. No, no. It's not for you to open now, it's for you to open when... oh, fuck it. Open it, open it!**

**—Is it a guitar? ...oh. Oh, wow.**

**—What's up, huh? You think we could go to London and get there in time for the Frank Sinatra show?”**

He licked his lips, squinting a little before putting the tickets back in the envelope, and put it in a notebook before leaving it in his rucksack, next to a pen. He got down on his knees in front of the bed and pulled out a box from under the bed which was full of cassettes, cassettes which had been kept for a long time. He took some that might be useful, and put them in his rucksack. He stood up and walked to his closet, opening the drawers and taking out clothes. The Devil was staring at him, analyzing his little boy's movements.

—What are you doing?

Harry smirks. —What I should have done a long time ago instead of crying and taking refuge with you. —He says, and when he finishes folding his clothes, he puts them in his backpack and closes it.

Louis tries to calm that impatience in his chest as he watches him walk to the closet and take a dark brown jean coat, putting it on the white shirt he was wearing.  _ Fuck, he looked so good. _

—And what is it that you should have done?

Harry finishes arranging his coat in front of his mirror, and puts his curls to one side before turning around and looking at the Devil.. —Leave. —He goes over to the bed to grab the backpack, which shoots across the room. The curly boy looks at his husband again. —Do you have something to tell me?

Louis was angry, he was. Mainly because he had been deluded into trusting Baphomet, who had served him for most of eternity. He didn't understand how he could betray him, and it didn't hurt him at all, it was just something illogical and he had to investigate. He had come to his husband's room in the hope of seeing him, of devouring him with kisses, of telling him, finally, how much he loved him; of telling him how beautiful he was, and how sorry he was for everything he put him through. That he wasn't cut out to love, but he would do anything to make him feel good.

And all for what? To get there, to notice that it had all been an illogical betrayal, and that his favorite boy was the most inexpressive and insensitive being in the universe. He never thought to describe Harry that way in his life. Never.

He slowly approached the curly boy. —Don't challenge me, Harry. Just because you don't have a soul doesn't make you stronger.

—Actually, I do. It does.. —He says, with a slight frown. Of course it did, feeling nothing was the best thing. They stared at each other for a few seconds, silently. —Louis... I'm walking out that door. You can't stop me.

—Yes, I can. —His jaw looked tense as things on the wall began to shake. Harry didn't care, and what Louis didn't understand was that he had to get used to it.

—How? —They continued to stare at each other in silence for a few seconds before Harry's eyebrows rose. —You gonna kill me? —Louis couldn't believe it. He was unrecognizable. He was just a brain. —Before, I'd probably scream and beg for something other than you to kill me. You did me a big favor, I'm not suffering anymore. Nothing hurts me.

—Listen to me. —He cut him. He couldn't hear him talk anymore. He slammed him against the wall and took him by the arms. Harry just blinked, inexpressive. —You're not really you, and if I have to spend three fucking eternities looking for your soul, I'm gonna do it. Got it?

The curly boy immediately nodded. —Okay. —And not only did he sound disinterested, but he also seemed to care very little.

They look at each other a little longer. The Devil cannot bear it, and he takes his husband's face, his Harry, in his hands, with the rings of his fingers stuck to the cold cheeks of the short boy, moving closer and snatching a slow, deep kiss from his lips.

Harry gasped, immediately clinging to Louis' shirt, moving his lips against those of the archangel, who pressed him against the wall. Their tongues met, caressing each other slowly, sensually. Finally the Devil moved away, licking his lips.

—You look fucking hot when you don't give a shit about anything... but I prefer you talking about how good it feels to be in my arms. —He approached him again, circling his waist to lure him into his arms. He felt different, but he missed him.

He spent a few minutes tasting his husband's lips as if it were the first time before stepping aside, letting go and taking a few steps backwards. His eyes had returned to normal.

—We'll see each other when I find your soul.

Harry sighed before going to the bed, taking his backpack and hanging the straps on his shoulders. —Good luck with that.

—I don't need it.

He stopped feeling that presence. The good thing about not having a soul was that he no longer felt discomfort when Louis was present. How many benefits of not having a soul were there? He had to start listing them.

_ But not now. Now he had to move. _

Trying not to forget anything, he finally left his room taking a warm blanket, leaving it under his arm, and went up the steps, reaching the living room. He stopped when he saw his father coming in and watching him.

—Harry! What are you doing here? —He asked, puzzled as he left his car keys on the coffee table, smiling at his son.

_ Right!  _ He was supposed to be in school.

—Oh, nothing. I got out of school early. —He lies, smiling as he lifts the corners of his mouth, causing his dimples to appear on his cheeks. —Dad, are you too tired to make me some tea?

He squinted, confused. His son had never asked him to do anything, but who was he to deny him?

—No, of course. I'll make you some tea. —He said, and after a few short seconds he turned on his heels and headed for the kitchen, losing sight of his son. —How was school?

Quietly, the curly boy approaches the coffee table and carefully bends over to pick up his father's car keys. He sighs.

—Good. —He answers. —Thank you. I've been feeling great, Dad. How about you? How was your day?

His father interpreted this as a good sign, and didn't hesitate to start talking about his day while he was boiling the water and preparing the cup with the things. Harry just turned around and carefully opened the front door of his house, going out and closing it very slowly.

As soon as he turned around, he started running towards the car, getting into the driver seat. He had never done this before, but he remembered on his birthday, before the tragedy, that Des had explained a little to him. He left his rucksack and blanket on the co-driver's seat before he put the key in the ignition and turned it, pressing a pedal. The car started, and he took a deep breath before turning the wheel and accelerating, carefully leaving the main road.

He looked in the rearview mirror before looking ahead, driving slower than usual so that he could open his backpack with one hand. He took a map out of it, and spread it on the steering wheel, looking sideways. Alright, it only took twenty-six and a half streets to get out of that village, finally getting on the road to London.

He left the map and accelerated with more confidence. He wasn't afraid, because everything seemed to be going great for him. He decided to play the tape that was already in the car.

_ Dominique, nique, nique… _

He hit the brakes. He took out the cassette and threw it out the window in the middle of an avenue before speeding up. What a relief! Too bad he didn't feel it, but he probably would have.

Should that be added to the list of good and bad things about not having a soul?  **No. He wouldn't think of that anymore. He wouldn't, because everything was quiet now.**

The rest of the way he heard one of his Elvis cassettes.  **Devil in Disguise.** Did he know the words? Yes. Did he hear it with passion or emotion? No. Now, it was just another song, just something to listen to, and pretending to sing it with gusto wasn't going to make it really happen.

He had finally left the village, and it had been quiet. No chase, no trouble. It had been so easy, and he wondered what was stopping him from doing it before. Hell! He could have even proposed it to Louis, but no, he preferred to keep on intoxicating himself.

Hours later, in the afternoon, when Harry passed two gas stations, he noticed his stomach growling, desperately longing for some food. He didn't really feel hungry, and he must have taken advantage of the empty road, but he knew that if he didn't eat something might happen to him, even if he didn't feel that way.

Finally, two villages and three hours later, he managed to find a small gas station. He needed gas anyway, and he could have a coffee while planning where to go.

He parked next to a man who worked there, and instructed him to carry the impala, leaving him a tip and the keys before taking his backpack and heading into the small cafeteria. It wasn't full at all except for an old man at one end, and a family who seemed to be on a trip, buying a lot of things for the two children. The curly boy walked over to a table and left the backpack beside him, taking out one of his books, the map and his pen, arranging everything on the table. He had to write down the places he had passed, the towns he planned to stay in, etc.

He hears footsteps approaching. —Young man. What would you like to drink?

—Uhm... coffee and cookies. —He answers after thinking for a few seconds, without looking away from the map, marking a route with his index finger.

The woman writes something in her little notebook before turning to the chair in front of the curly boy. —What about you, honey? Anything special?

Harry frowned before looking up, meeting his husband again, who denies the woman's question. She goes back to where she came from, muttering something to herself, probably about the few good manners they both had.

—I thought you went looking for my soul. —The curly boy comments, marking with his index finger another direction, drawing with the pen on the map.

—...It's not there..

The boy's gaze turns to the Devil again. —What?

Louis straightens up in his seat, shaking his head before running a hand through his hair. Harry had never seen him like this, because if there was one thing his husband always had was self-control, but he was clearly losing it.

The archangel couldn't stand it. —I looked in every corner. I thought it would be in The Pit. Apparently it's not.

Harry finally folds the map, finishing his work before he whistles. —My soul must be fried. —He comments, packing his things in his backpack before closing it.

Louis tightens his jaw. He wants to kill someone.

—Your soul isn't fried, because it hasn't been in The Pit, or maybe it has, but for a very short time. It's not ruined.

—So what if it is?

—I'll love you either way.

Harry shakes his head. —That's selfish, Louis. —He says. Louis must begin to get used to the cold looks, muffled tone of voice and empty words. —What if I don't want my soul?

The Devil stares at him before smirking, as if he were mocking someone or something. —You're not my husband, you're just a body. I want him, and I want him to be the one who decides whether or not to feel. You're his body, and I have to make sure nothing happens to you.

—Gee, thanks. —He said falsely, watching out of the corner of his eye as the woman approached with the coffee and cookies. —If I'm not Harry, does that mean that when you kissed me in my room you cheated on him?

The Devil tensed his jaw even more at the sarcastic question, hardly taken seriously by his favorite boy. The woman put the coffee cup and cookies on the table. Harry this time thanked her and took a cookie, dipping it into the contents of the cup.

—Are you sure you're not going to order anything, boy? —The woman writes something in her little notebook before she looks at the Devil. —A glass of water, perhaps? That's free.

Louis blinks slowly, licking his lips before looking up to stare into the woman's eyes.

—No, but I'm going to order you something. —He says, with his voice sounding a little hoarser, speaking softly. The woman, who seems to be gawking, hypnotized, nods. —Will you be so kind as to offer the curly boy here whatever he wants?

—...Yes.

—Perfect. —He stared at her for a few seconds before the lady nodded, turned on her heels and left. Louis takes his gaze to his husband's empty eyes. —If I find out that my husband's body has touched someone other than me, or that his lips have kissed lips other than mine, without his consent and, honestly, I don't think you can have it now, the coffee lady is going to run you over until your brains are all over the country, and I'm going to get Harry a better body.

Although the curly boy didn't feel a bit scared, it took him a few seconds to assimilate what he had just heard.

—...That's not possible.

—Bloody hell, I know. So do as you're told.

It was in the blink of an eye that the presence of the Devil was no longer felt, or seen. Harry snorted. Did Louis think the fact that he had no soul would keep him from banging every guy he saw? That's not what this was about. He didn't need to. He drank his coffee in one gulp and put the cookies in his backpack, chewing one as he got up from his seat and looked around. The old man in the corner of that place looked surprised, really shocked at the curly boy, and he frowned before realizing it. He had probably seen Louis disappear. He turned and went to the counter, beginning to ask for food and money from the woman who had attended him. She gave it to him without any problem, and after Harry put everything in his backpack, he went to the car, which had enough gas. The worker there handed him the key, and Harry thanked him before getting into the car, starting it and driving.

Now he would go to London, and on the way he would try to find a way to convince his husband to stay that way. No worries, discomfort and regrets.


	29. XXVI. "Confessions With The Devil"

In Surrey the days continued as quiet as ever. The weather was foul, because the humidity made everything sticky, and the rain took a long time to fall from the sky, but people were still in a good mood.

The light-haired young man finished taking money out of the cashier, holding it out to the old woman in front of him and over the counter, who took it carefully.

—Here, Dorothy. I hope you have a very good day.

The lady smiles as she hangs the shopping bag on her wrist. —Thanks a lot, honey. I hope you have a beautiful day too. —Dorothy answers, and as she leaves the store, she runs into a local worker, who is holding a huge box in his arms. —He's a gentleman. —She says to that other young man, referring to the cashier before she left for the store, ringing a small bell that was hanging from it.

The brunette carrying the box turned to the boy at the counter, raising and lowering his eyebrows. —She really loves you. —He says flirtatiously, smirking as he walks to the corner of the room, leaving the box on the floor.

—Oh, shut up. She could be your grandmother.

—But she's not. —The dark skinned man straightens up again, stretching a bit before turning on his heels and heading back to the small room with more boxes to carry.  _ God, his back hurt. _

The record player with  **The Beatles** playing made him want to dance, but it would be too embarrassing if his friend or someone came back, so he simply deigned to take the little rag and sprinkle it with water, starting to wipe the counter while humming the rhythm. He heard his friend's laughter from the other room, so his face turned red and he fell silent.

—WELL, SHAKE IT UP BABY NOW —Sang very loudly the brunette, arranging boxes. Now it was the blond one who was laughing. —TWIST AND SHOOOUUT

—TWIST AND SHOUT

—COME ON, COME ON, COME, COME ON BABY NOW

—COME ON BABY

—COME ON AND WORK IT ON OUT

—WORK IT O-

Their singing was interrupted by the loud bursting of the shop windows. The boy at the counter quickly covered himself, his clothes and hair full of tiny crystals, and his cheekbone with a slight cut that only burned.

He heard the door of the store open abruptly, so he opened his eyes and watched, thinking that it would be his friend.

_ It was nothing like that. _

He had seen him before, when he was controlled by God himself. Black dress, blood colored eyes, cold look, a little desperate. An archangel, the archangel.  **The Devil** . This one didn't look at all like the first time he had seen him. He continued to look calm, except for his eyes, which were wider than usual. His gaze was deranged, as if he wouldn't tolerate one more little thing.

Observó a su alrededor rápidamente antes de observar al joven en el mostrador, el cual lucía entre sorprendido y asustado, retrocediendo lentamente.

—Oh, God.

That seemed to make the devil angrier, and with a simple hand movement he slammed the blond man against the wall. Footsteps were heard mixed with sore moans, and his friend, who was a little hurt, came out of the little room and looked at the scene.

—Niall?

—Where is he? —Finally the archangel spoke, without taking his eyes off the blond man, exerting more force in his grip on the wall, making it more painful.

—I-I don't... I don't know.

—...I'm not gonna ask again.

—What are you doing to him? —The dark haired man raised his voice to the man in front of him, who turned his back on him. He was afraid, but Niall was his best friend. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to him. —Let him go!

—I-I don't know where... AHHH! —He felt his arm slip out of place, and could not help but moan in pain as his beautiful blue eyes filled with tears.

—What are you doing?! I told you to let him-

Louis was faster. He just moved his other hand, and the dark skinned man's neck snapped. His body fell to the ground, lifeless.

—ZAYN! —He sobbed, blinking and with tears streaming down his cheeks.

—Tell me where he is.

A heart-rending cry came from the mouth of the worldly and, full of anger, he looked at the Devil. —SCREW YOU, BASTARD! I'M NOT TELLING YOU SHIT, YOU JUST TOOK MY BEST FRIEND FROM ME!

Louis seemed to freeze for a few long seconds, with the strong sobs of the blond man rumbling in his head, eating away at him, making him understand. Was this it? Was this what he had become? A king of the underworld with compassion?

Of course not. It was just...

**...Harry would never forgive him for that.**

He lowered his hand as he watched the blond man fall sharply, moaning in pain amidst heavy sobbing. How had that happened? Only seconds ago he was singing his favorite song happily, chanting to the person he loved, the one who had been by his side since kindergarten. How did he end up like that? Was it his fault?

Louis turned to the body, determined. He was going to revive him. He wished he could revive his boy's best friend, but days had passed, adding that Fionn had been dismembered, and his soul had already ascended to return to him. He bent down, blinking slowly, and put his hand on the boy's head.

He stopped when he suddenly opened his eyes. He felt it immediately, and as if he were allergic, Louis stood up immediately, taking two steps backwards and looking disdainfully at the young man, who stood up calmly.

—I heard you were looking for me.

Louis took a deep, shaky breath. —I want him back, or I swear I'll kill every fucking living thing in this world.

The black-haired boy frowns slightly. —What do you want back?

—You know that very well. You're just wasting my time.

Niall walked with his legs shaking, holding his broken arm and still crying. —Zayn? —Although he really wasn't, he watched him for a few seconds before turning his gaze to the Devil, who had lowered his to the ground when he heard that young man's broken voice.

—If you're referring to Harry Styles' soul, I don't have it. —He says.

Louis looked up, staring at God in the guise of that inferior being, less angry with him, but more and more confused. What was happening?

—Impossible...

—Louis, why would you think that I would have it? He sold his soul to you. —He comments, looking at the blonde and moving towards him.

Louis follows him with his eyes, more and more lost. He would never believe that he would show himself to others so vulnerable, but now he was, and he didn't care so much as to pretend.

—That's right. But when I went to hell to look for it I didn't find it, and one of my demons informed me that they had already taken the soul back into his body.

The creator of all things took Niall's arm, healing it without even causing him pain. Niall blinked in tears as the dark haired man brought his hands to his face.

—My protection remains with you, despite the damage it may cause you. I'm still in your debt, so you don't have to worry about your friend. He will be well taken care of.

—No. —Niall quickly says, bringing his hands to Zayn's arms. —No. You must return him. We were happy. He's my best friend, I-I... I'm nothing without him. Please... I'm begging you.

Louis swallowed hard.  _ Fuck. _

—As you wish. —The brunette says, holding his hands away from the blond man's cheeks when he has finished healing him. He turned to his archangel again. —What did the demon tell you?

—Nothing. I found him dead. —He answered.

—And what do you think happened?

Louis hesitated for a few seconds, sighing and lifting his chin a little, showing superiority and courage. He had to be strong on this, because of his husband. —Baphomet was an idiot, but he was very loyal. He's been serving me for a few long years. I think there was someone who did take Harry's soul, and then got rid of the idiot so he wouldn't tell me who it was.

His father nodded. —I understand, but it's not in heaven. I would've let you know right away even though, honestly, I didn't think you cared that much.

—I didn't think you cared so much about your precious humans either.

—I do care about them, yes. —The brunette confirmed in a neutral way, staring at the archangel. —I believe I've always shown it.

—You only show you care when they're not lost, but as soon as they think they have an outlet with me, you abandon them. —He says, putting his hands into the front pockets of his pants.

—I don't blame you for believing that, but maybe if you hadn't been the way you are, they would have no reason to fall into your hands, so I wouldn't abandon them.

—You would have thought of that before sending me to a place of darkness simply because I have a different opinion of humans than you do. However, then you come along and dictate "free will" while you do some pretty fucking marketing to make everyone think I'm the evil one and you're the good one. Give me reasons not to be the way I am, and I will gladly go to your side, God of hypocrites. —He finishes saying that, completely calmly, before moving his index finger up.

**“Help”** by  **The Beatles** begins to play on the record player, louder before the Devil sees the two people standing there for the last time, specifically one, and turns to leave that store, disappearing once outside.

Everything stays that way before the brunette's body falls to the ground again. Niall startles, opening his eyes wide.

—Zayn?! God. Please. —He kneels beside the boy's body and grabs him by the shirt, about to shake him roughly. The black haired man takes a deep breath, agitated at first, and gradually begins to breathe more normally. —Oh, Zayn...

—W-What happened? —Niall sobbed, and the dark-haired man seemed to care more about it than he did about being dead only seconds ago. —Niall, don't cry...

Niall immediately embraced him, gluing his face to the other's left shoulder, holding him tightly, and being held in the same way, with his best friend's hand rubbing his back. Slowly he calmed down again.

—You idiot, I thought I lost you...

—Okay. —Zayn laughs a little, hesitantly, and holds his friend closer as he looks around.  _ Oh, shit.  _ —I need you to explain everything.

—I will, I promise.

—And we have to start making an excuse for the broken glass.

The blond man laughs, sipping his little nose before moving aside a little to look at his friend, who is smiling weakly.

—Idiot.

He had never driven in his life, and for one of the first times, he was doing pretty well.

The boy had been driving for hours, and hours. He could go on, but he wasn't dumb. He knew that he would become weak if he didn't eat or sleep properly, even though he didn't feel hungry or sleepy.

He stopped the car after entering a dirt road, leaving the road, through a forest. He drove for a few minutes until he finally parked in the middle and turned off the car, sighing as he rubbed his face and stretched out a bit on the seat. He locked the doors from the inside and carefully moved to the back seat. The blanket that he had taken from his room was there, and although he wasn't cold, after taking off his shoes and coat he covered himself with it and sat down with his head resting against the window of the left rear door.

He felt his presence as soon as he appeared, but kept his eyes closed, sighing again.

—Hi, Lou. —He greets. There's only silence. —Did you find my soul?

—No, and I don't know when I will, but I will. You'll go back to being what you were.

The curly boy's eyes were opened before he turned to look at the archangel, who was staring at him. He continued with his burgundy eyes and, honestly, they had been like that since Harry had no soul.

—Louis, what if I don't want my soul back?

—I can't not give it back to you, it's dangerous.. —When the curly boy frowned slightly, the Devil spoke again. —You won't always be this calm. Not having a soul can bring even more darkness than you already have. Besides... I simply cannot allow it. It's not fair to have an ending like that. Not for you.

—That’s the point. —Harry was calm, neutral as he turned around to look at his husband, who was watching him like a work of art. He was. —I don't... I don't know if this is right, it probably isn't. —He slowly shakes his head, staring into the eyes of the king of the underworld. —But I've been better than I've ever been. I feel stronger, because nothing scares me anymore, nothing hurts. I'm independent, without emotional imbalance. I don't care about my parents, or my sister, or my friends... or you. —It burns Louis' heart to hear that, but he knows it's not Harry's fault. Clearly he wasn't going to feel anything, he knew what it was like not to have a soul, well... not exactly. In his case, it had been off, but he knew what it was like not to feel. —My point is that... What do you think will happen when I get my soul back? Because I can't feel it, but I can describe how it hurt. Fionn's death killed me. I remember thinking "I want to die tonight, I really want to die," and I remember believing I deserved it all. I remember crying, and not being able to stop, because it kept hurting. So I really try to respect your decision and, even though I don't give a shit, I understand that I can't decide this but what if I had already longed for it and never told you?

Louis was speechless. He was surprised at how smart Harry could be. Although he didn't feel anything, he tried to make an effort to do so, but unfortunately he had his reasons for staying that way.

However, the Devil had his reasons too.

—Remember when you almost died because that son of a bitch wouldn't let me heal you? —Harry just nodded after a few seconds. —I asked you to let me help you, because I couldn't let you die. I know you said yes because you love me... but I also know that you agreed because you had hopes of me saving you. You want to be saved, and you want to live, and you want to heal. You want to love, and you want to feel loved, because that's why you met me. You wanted love.

—It's not just that. There are more reasons why we shouldn't. Your presence? Without a soul, I'm not affected by you spending hours glued to my side. I don't deteriorate.

—We have a lot of time to continue together, and whenever I leave because my presence hurts you, I'll come back. I'll always come back for you, Harry.

The curly boy slowly shakes his head, lowering his gaze and frowning when a strong pain starts to appear near his wrist, expanding all over his arm. Louis notices this and looks at the indecipherable mark on his husband's forearm. He takes his hand carefully to take a closer look.

—Does it still hurt?

—Yes, but it's more bearable now that I'm this way. —He answers, his breath catching a bit when he feels the fire on his skin, finally leaving suddenly, making him exhale.

Louis stares at his boy's face, who seconds later also looks up. They stare at each other before Harry smiles falsely. At least he was trying.

—Here's another reason not to have my soul back. I cried even when someone breathed.

Louis couldn't help but smile as the curly boy did, pulling his hand closer to him. The boy was left kneeling in the seats, and Louis slowly wrapped his arms around his waist.

—I thought it was adorable. As much as I hated seeing you sad, it was a great reason to hold you in my arms. You were a baby.

Harry wraps his arms around the archangel's neck, and Louis pulls a little more to finally have him on his lap, with both legs of the curly boy on the same side, stretched out on the seat.

—I am now, too, only a baby who doesn't care about anything. A stronger one....—He tilts his head when Louis moves his mouth closer to his.

—You've always been strong.

Their lips finally meet, moving slowly and deeply over each other. Louis draws the curly boy closer to his body. Fuck, he'd missed him so much. He wanted to devour his mouth at every fucking second.

Harry brought one of his hands to his husband's hair, slowly caressing it, trying to feel the texture of it, trying to remember how the tickle felt in his tummy.

...nothing.

He pulled away a little, staring at the Devil. —I don't feel anything..

—I know. —Louis nodded as he put his hands under the short boy's shirt, stroking his waist. —I'll take care of it, I'll bring you back, because you deserve a happy ending, Harry.

The curly boy nodded slowly, raising his eyebrows and looking at a fixed point. —I hope you're right, Louis.

—I am. —He unconsciously snuggled him closer and positioned his mouth against the boy's forehead.

The latter didn't hesitate to close his eyes, ready to fall asleep which, as the days went by, was even more difficult to do.

He sighed. —Just hurry up, before I change my mind.

_ Before the darkness absorbs what's left of me... _


	30. XXVII. "An Eye For An Eye"

Who knew that a cheap motel room would house the real king of the underworld and a soulless teenager?

Louis was getting everything Harry needed. Because he had no soul, it was difficult for him to comment on being hungry, sleepy, tired or unwell. He was simply driving to an unknown destination. Three days had passed, and finally the curly boy arrived in London and drove to a motel, forced by his husband, who got him a room in that place just by looking into the manager's eyes, clearly pronouncing  _ "Give him everything he needs”. _

The room was medium sized, cozy and cold. It had a bed, a closet with a mirror, two cheap paintings and an extremely small bathroom. After settling in, they had been there for more than two hours. Harry was in bed, barefoot and with his hands on his stomach, staring at the ceiling. The Devil stood in a corner with Harry's notebook in his ring-filled hands, reading the exorcism he had written down and, between pages, finding lovely things.  **"Louis + Harry - 13/11/67"** and song lines from his boy's favorite singers.

Despite the strong beats in his chest, the Devil also felt anger. How had he been so stupid to be careless? The reality was that he couldn't have known that the boy he had watched since childhood could become something important to him. He didn't know that he would want to protect him in such a way that he would risk everything, he didn't know that he would...

—Okay. —The curly boy interrupted his thoughts, looking at Louis as he sat abruptly on the bed. —If no one on God's side and your side has it, who's left?

The king of the underworld looked up to look at him grimly, returning to reality. Three days ago, in the night, he had held him in his arms, and they had even kissed, but he did wrong. That Harry was not his Harry, he couldn't get confused.

He sighed as he closed the notebook, leaving it on the only piece of furniture in the room. —That's the problem. I can't find a way to know if anyone on either side has it.

—Why would anyone want it anyway? What's so important about that thing that they have to steal it? —Louis looked up again, watching him. He hadn't thought of such a possibility. Would Harry's soul have a price? —Or is it just someone who wants to annoy you?

Louis had quite a few enemies, yes. Being the Devil meant being frowned upon or not getting along with anyone related to the one above, so there was a good chance it was someone who wanted to annoy him, because they knew that Harry was the only thing Louis cared about.

—I'll know soon enough. —He said, and went over to the curly boy's rucksack, taking a bag of fries from it and leaving it on the bed near his husband. —Eat.

—Who, besides the demon that killed Fionn, would want to hurt us? —Harry ignored him, continuing the discussion.

—Lots of people, but no one would dare. They know how powerful I am, and that's why I still don't quite understand who it might be. Now shut up, and eat something.

The curly boy sighed before taking the bag of fries, crossing his legs and unwillingly chewing that junk food. He was pale, had lost a couple of pounds and had noticeable dark bags under his eyes. He looked like he used to when he spent a lot of time at his husband's side, except now he didn't look frail... now he looked like he didn't care.

He stopped chewing when a great idea came to his mind, and set the bag of chips aside, standing up. Louis grunted at that, about to demand him to eat again.

—You once told me that my soul was destined to be with yours.

Louis stared at him, not knowing where that conversation would lead. —That's right.. —He said in a dry tone, leaning against the wall again.

—How?

—I could feel the moment your soul was created. I felt it inside, I felt it new, and pure.

—And how did you find it? How did you find me?

—I... concentrated. —He said, pausing in the middle of the sentence as he learned his boy's theory. He was smart even without a soul. —And I did. —He frowned slightly, beginning to focus without even a word of warning. He could feel something, just...

—There you go. Meanwhile... –Harry turned, walking to the closet at the other end of the room. —...I’m going to-

Louis stopped his concentration when he heard a sudden thump on the ground. He looked over, and found the curly boy on his knees with his back to him. He approached immediately, noticing his husband's hands trembling, his face raised and his eyes tightly closed, moving.

**_Darkness, tickling in the chest, hands with veins turning black, and an inevitable pain in his arm._ **

—Hey. —The Devil knelt down in front of the boy, and took him by the face. —Harry, kid. Fuck, wake up. —He moved him a little when he noticed that his breathing had stopped, and he was about to do it again if it weren't for the sudden and sudden inhalation of the curly boy, whose eyes were already open and whose breathing was quite deep. —Easy, breathe. —He wasn't even aware that he was stroking his face. Had it become an instinct to protect the boy? Has it always been? He lowered his hands to his shoulders, noticing his thinness. —What happened? Didn't you eat adequately? —He almost grunted, trying to stay calm.

Harry shook his head after a few seconds, blinking between confusion and overwhelm. —I’m okay...

—You have to eat, right now.

—It’s not that. —The human quickly responded. —I saw something.

The archangel remained with his eyes fixed on his husband's expressionless face. —What?

He noticed him swallowing before he started to get up. Louis helped him and put him back on the bed.

—I don’t think I can explain...

—Try. It might mean something. —He squatted in front of Harry, who shook his head, downplaying it.

—I don't think so, this has happened before. It may have been stronger, just because I don't have a soul. It may have something...

He gradually became quiet as he noticed the cheap paintings in that room shaking. He looked back at the king of the underworld, who had bloodshot eyes and his jaw was more pronounced than usual.

—...What did you say?

The boy blinked slowly. It didn't affect him in the least, as expected. —I've had those kinds of images even when I had a soul. —He commented. One of the paintings fell to the floor, but none of them flinched. —I think you should calm down.

That made the Devil angrier, he immediately stood up. —How could you keep something so important from me? —he asked in a low voice.

Harry shrugged as he pressed his arm against his chest. —I don't know. I guess at that time I felt it wasn't really important. —He excused himself, putting his feet back up on the bed and sitting further back, resting his back against the wall. —I've dreamed of the future. —He began. There was a short silence. —Or so I believe. That's what it looks like. Before my birthday I saw a forest, and hands with blood on them. It was probably a premonition, because it was the same scene where Fionn died, and my hands were bloody from the stab Ruby gave me in the rib. Everything was the same, but from a different angle. It wasn't me seeing, and it was a little blurry.

He looked up when he felt the Devil again in front of him, squatting and carefully holding one of his hands, the one with the sore arm. He placed the boy's cold palm on his warm palm, and placed his free hand on the back of it, seeking to warm it. Harry didn't feel a temperature that wasn't beyond the norm.

Louis moved three of his ringed fingers to push the sleeve of the white shirt leaving his forearm free. He looked at that mark on his husband's arm, which was still just as transparent, but the area was red-hot. Both men's faces frowned in unison before the Devil looked up into the boy's empty eyes.

—Tell me more about your visions. Did you have them regularly? What did you see a few minutes ago?

—I saw two hands, and the veins in these were black. —He answered the truth. Why would he lie?

The archangel's gaze returned to the mark, and he sighed heavily. He had his doubts, his theories... and none of them made sense, and few that were likely to be right... he simply didn't want them for his husband.

He tried to be patient, he was really trying.

—You have to tell me when this happens.

And Harry nodded, but he seemed lost in thought, staring at a fixed point in the room. He blinked quickly when a thought crossed his mind. —Maybe...

The king of the underworld looked him in the eyes again. —Say it.

The curly boy also returned his gaze. —I think I know who has my soul. —He said.

If it weren't for the fact that the way there was only a second where Louis made him close his eyes and touched a part of his body, they would have argued the whole way.

“ _ —No. _

_ —Take me with you. _

_ —No. You stay here. I told you it's dangerous. _

_ Harry quickly shook his head and began to put on his shoes.—I'm not going to stay here, I want to be kept in the loop. _

_ —I said  _ **_no_ ** _. _

_ —I've told you to hurry up and find it before I change my mind, but that doesn't mean leaving me out of things. If you leave and don't take me with you, I'll drive over there, regardless if you've already left. I'm gonna go, and I'm gonna make sure you don't find me. _

_ La mirada del diablo se mantuvo fija en los ojos del rizado. Ya sabía que éste no tenía alma pero, por algún motivo, muchas veces solía buscar aquel brillo puro e inigualable que tanto le gustaba. _

_ He stepped forward, bringing both hands to his shoulders. —Close your eyes. —He ordered.” _

He could feel the darkness in Harry starting to creep in. It was fast and unsuspecting. He knew that taking him with him would be trouble, but he also knew that leaving him alone could be even worse.

—Open them.

The boy's green eyes opened, blinking slowly to clear his vision and leave the dizziness behind, looking around. He recognized his aunt and uncle's house, the place where he had lived the worst moments of his childhood. The first time he saw his father raise his hand to his mother in one of the rooms at the end of the only corridor of the place, or when it was Brad's birthday and he and his friends spread the rumor that Harry was gay and kissed every boy in sight.

Unfortunately, remembering things like that wasn't like it was a few days ago.

It was strange. He felt no affection, no nostalgia, no emotion for all those bad memories, but he had a slight tingling in his chest, as if it were this clock that sounded with the passing of the seconds needle, moving slowly, and something would happen when it reached the top next to the other needle.

Steps nearby made him look up, and he felt the imaginary needle speed up as he saw his cousin, Ben, walking around while whistling, with a cup of hot tea in his hands. He looked relaxed, with comfortable clothes and his hair unkempt. He had probably been sleeping.

How was it possible for him to sleep peacefully after provoking a murder?

Ben looked up and froze in place, letting out a gasp and with the cup slipping from his hands to the floor, splashing the hot liquid and with the glass spreading at his feet.

—...God, no. —He whispered. It's then that he blinks, and behind his cousin this tall figure, dressed in black, that he previously thought he saw, becomes present. He has trouble breathing, he knows who he is. —Bob! BOB!

A series of new steps followed, and the second brother appeared, watching the scene as his eyes opened wide. Louis' cold, fake smile became visible. That little smirk that provoked everything but something good.

—Look what we have here. —He says. The boy in front of him doesn't speak, because that darkness that envelops his senses doesn't allow him to, and the sudden thirst for revenge keeps his mouth even more closed. Louis nods to the floor, where the remains of the tea cup are. —You had even made yourself a cup of tea, pretending everything was peaceful and settled... that I wouldn't come for the fools who started all this.

—Harry. Harry, I'm begging you, for God's sake... have mercy. —Bob starts, raising his arms in defense mode and backing up until he hits a wall.

A movement of one of the archangel's fingers causes both mundanes to be thrown to the other side of the room, against a wall, and they moan in pain and with frightened breathing.

The pupils of the curly boy are more than dilated while he hears in his own ears his heart beating strongly, but slow. His hands itch for the irremediable urge to crush the heads of his cousins. Yes, he should...

He took a deep breath to control himself. Louis doesn't seem to notice that, and he steps forward.

—Start confessing and you'll have a quick death. —He says firmly. —Give me back his soul.

The room is silent as the brothers look at each other in confusion and terror before looking at the Devil again.

—W-What?

Louis' little smile fades as his eyes begin to glaze over. —Are you really asking me to repeat myself? —He moves his finger again, just a little bit to make the mundanes hit the wall. —I have little patience for these things.

—We don't know what you want! —Ben cries out in despair as he hears his brother sobbing silently. —W-We just don't understand what you mean. Please, I'm begging you.

Louis concentrated again, like when he was at the motel before Harry had the strange visions. He didn't feel it close, he felt it quite far away. He grunted, fed up, and took a couple of strides forward, stopping and grabbing Bob by the shirt, bringing him closer to his face.

—Tell me where his soul is, who has it, or I'll break every bone in your body.

—I-I don't... I don't know. Please, I don't really n- AAHH!

Louis just pressed on Bob's wrist, which broke, and the other one followed. To the Devil, the sound of breaking bone was music to his ears.

And he was going to continue to enjoy it, he was really going to. It was when he felt the other brother running away, after breaking the leg of the one he was holding, that he noticed how the latter's gaze went past him, and he was screaming loudly at the same time that a disgusting sound was heard.

Louis turned, and released the broken boy to the scene in front of his eyes. He didn't know how to react.

Harry was holding one of Ben's shoulders in one hand, and in the other he had a sharp kitchen knife stuck in the middle of the boy's face, who had his eyes wide open and was trying to breathe as his hands trembled.

The curly boy pulled the knife away with effort, and drew a quick, deep line across his cousin's neck, splashing blood before releasing him and watching him fall to the ground, dying.

It was a relief. It was like drinking after days of not drinking a bit of water. It was an exquisite sensation, and his fingers were tingling from trying it again, but he was satisfied enough.

He turned to face the archangel, his expressionless face full of blood. He wiped the knife on his shirt after a couple of blinks, and put it in his pocket.

Amidst Bob's loud cries for his brother, the Devil came out of his trance and walked quickly to his boy, grabbing him by the shoulders, without even giving him time to close his eyes and disappear from there.

His cousin's living room vanished, and soon the couple reappeared in the motel room, in the dark. All you could hear was their heavy breathing. Louis was pressing hard - not hard enough to hurt him - on the shoulders of the youngest, who was still blinking slowly, not really knowing what happened, but internally grateful.

—...Harry.

There was a short silence.—I’m sorry, Louis.

The Devil closed his eyes tightly. His voice sounded so sweet, it sounded like the old Harry, but it wasn't him. Not anymore, and he had to find a way to find him again. He needed his husband again.

—No, you're not..

—...No. —He answers, agreeing. He slowly looks up, and their eyes meet. —I had to... I wanted to.

It was too strange to see him like that. Harry... Harry was the sweetest person and the most fragile, and strongest at the same time. He cried a lot, he always came to him, but he had been very strong in many situations in his life. He had endured beatings from his father, taunts from his cousins, insults at school, hypocrisy in church. He had endured the death of Fionn Whitehead, and walked home having been stabbed. Harry was strong, Harry was a good person, and this version of him was a real nightmare.

Louis brought his hands to the boy's face, wiping away the traces of blood. He wouldn't allow himself more than that touch. —Do you have any idea how much you're going to hate yourself when your soul returns to your body? —He couldn't even think about it. He wanted to carry all that guilt, he really did.

The curly boy simply stared at him for a few long seconds before shrugging his shoulders slightly.

—An eye for an eye, Louis. My soul... me with my soul, I'll have to understand. Part of me wanted this on my birthday, and I know I'm going to be grateful.


	31. XVIII. "Infernal Concequences"

It had only been a few minutes since it happened, and Harry seemed to have frozen in place. Louis cleaned his face with his own shirt, took him in his arms, and carried him to the small, uncomfortable bed there, undressing him to put on a gray long-sleeved shirt, baggy pants, and white socks. It was the least he could do.

It was when the curly boy fell asleep -  _ or so it seemed _ \- that he turned towards the door, making a movement with his hand in the direction of the door. He must have blocked it, at least for the time he wouldn't be there.

He stood up slowly, walking to the middle of the room, with each step causing a noise in the old wood floor. He took one last look at the boy who seemed to be sleeping peacefully under the blankets, and finally disappeared, leaving a deafening silence.

And not being able to see when her husband's green eyes opened.

Going back to that house meant being greeted by screaming, crying, things that he couldn't care less about. He was there to threaten Harry's only remaining castrato cousin, warning him to be silent or his death would be one of the most painful.

There were officers in that place, he could hear a woman crying and he was sure it was Harry's aunt, mourning the loss of another of her children. Clearly, it wasn't her fault that she'd had imbeciles.

Louis would have gone straight to the room where that idiot was, but he stopped. There was something strange...

He looked at the bag that was wrapping Ben's body, which was on a stretcher, and had to get a little closer to check. Anyway, he wasn't being visible to the others.

He took his hand over the bag, not touching it, and confirmed it, Ben's soul was still in place.

How was that possible? Actually, Louis' real question was, why had Death not gone for the soul of that pitiful attempt of a person?

When he wasn't making pacts, Death was in charge of the souls. He would take them away, and lead them to where they belonged. Heaven, hell, purgatory. Not taking a soul from a body meant leaving it with its own decision, that would mean that Ben would become a soul in torment, or not even wake up, continue as if he were asleep, which seemed perfect to Louis because he didn't want to see him even as a ghost, but... it was still strange.

When Louis reappears in the motel room, he notices that his husband is awake, staring at the ceiling before turning his head a little in his direction, staring at him. There are more noticeable dark circles under his eyes, he seems to deteriorate as the minutes go by.

This had to end today, and even more so now that he was almost certain to have succeeded.

The Devil walked over to the bed, sitting on the space that was left. —I need you to tell me about your visions.

Harry blinks quickly before shaking his head, looking up at the ceiling. —They weren't very interesting. —He says. A silence forms between them before the curly boy sighs and turns to his side, towards his husband. —Why do you want to know?

Louis had to be smart, and that meant not telling Harry his plan. He had begun the dark phase - which, by now, was going quite fast - and probably wouldn't want his soul back.

—I just haven't stopped thinking about it. —He lied so easily. He was the king of lies. —And I want to know.

—I've seen a hospital. —He answers immediately, without even hesitating. —I was standing on the end of the stretcher of a girl with cancer.

Louis stood up immediately. Bingo.

—What's going on?

The Devil walked to the middle of the room, running his hand across his lips and chin, trying to contain the anxiety and anger that was coming, doing his best not to shake those cheap pictures on the wall.

—I know who has your soul. It's Death. —He turns around, noticing the boy sitting up suddenly, with a slight frown on his face.

—Death? Why would Death have my soul?

—I'm not quite sure yet. —Actually, he had some theories. Death had probably taken his boy's soul because his father wanted to teach him a lesson. Yeah, probably because he always wants to be right. He tries not to grunt, coming out of his trance and looking at his husband. —I'm going to get it.

—I'll go with you.

—No. —At that, Harry's gaze becomes even darker, and he stands up abruptly. —No more conditions, you killed someone.

The curly boy raises both eyebrows while pointing his index finger at his chest. —You're telling me? You're the Devil.

—I'm no exception. I don't feel guilty and it's my job, not yours.

—You’re wrong. —The boy responded quickly. —I don't feel anything, and we should leave it at that.

—Enough. —The king of the underworld raises his voice just a little bit before lowering his gaze to the soulless worlding in front of him. Soon his husband would return, he was sure. —I’ll be back soon.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, and the Devil noticed something in Harry's eyes change. It was indecipherable.

—...Okay. —He answered, finally agreeing.

Louis knew that he wasn't agreeing, and that he was up to something. He just disappeared in the blink of an eye, because the longer he took, the more trouble there would be.

Harry, on the other hand, as soon as he noticed that the Devil was no longer in the room, walked quickly to his backpack and took out the knife he had used to kill Ben with a silver crucifix, and climbed up onto the bed, waiting against the wall while he kept looking at a fixed point in the room.

It was just a matter of waiting.

The crypt of Saint Antolin was located under the cathedral of Palencia, Spain. It was a crypt well known for its beauty, and because the church used to keep important things in it.

That's where that tall figure was, covered by a black cape.

It walked straight after coming down the stairs, ready to go to a destination which it already knew by heart. It was always going to check for it, because it cared for it, because it was its only way of...

It stopped as it felt a much stronger presence behind it, and it didn't hesitate to turn around quickly, meeting the Devil himself head on. He had bloodshot eyes, a slightly tilted head, and a dark, intimidating vibe.

Louis took a few seconds to close his eyes and take a deep breath, concentrating enough. He could feel it so close, that even his heart was pounding like never before. He opened his eyes wide.

—You realize what you did, right? —He took a step forward, causing Death to retreat. —You have taken the soul of my favorite boy, from my hell, and without my permission. —He licked his lips, looking behind the figure covered by the black cloak before looking back at it. —We'll make it easy. Give me his soul, or I will destroy you. You're not that strong, and I don't give a shit if people stop dying because there's no Death to receive them.

A loud, high-pitched screech came from the mouth of Death, impossible to see because of the cape covering much of his face. That sound rumbled through the crypt, shaking the place. It didn't move a hair on Louis' head, he just continued with his chin up, and his gaze fixed on Death, who had tried to show his strength through that sound.

Louis breathed a deep sigh, fed up with that situation. Didn't people get tired of wanting to show superiority to him?  **He was the fucking Devil, he could do whatever he wanted.**

Feeling more powerful than ever, because he finally knew where his husband's soul was, and everything would return to normal, he raised his hand, putting his fingers in position to snap. He just grazed them, getting ready, and cracks began to appear on the walls of the crypt as the place shook intensely. The only bulb of light in the place exploded, leaving both supernatural creatures in the dark and in a deafening silence.

—...I’m waiting.

The boy had already blessed both the knife in his sleeve and the crucifix around his neck, and was standing in front of the closet, looking at the notebook with the exorcism on it. Would it work on the Devil himself? He wasn't sure, but it was worth a try.

He turned when he felt a presence behind him, and noticed Louis standing only inches from his face. The curly boy stood motionless, staring back at him. The Devil's heavenly eyes went to his boy's neck, and soon they turned a burgundy color.

—Did you really think that was going to protect you from me? —He tilted his head down, raising both eyebrows as he smirked, coldly. —Silly boy, you have no soul. There's nothing to protect.

—omnus immundus spirits. Omnus s-

—It would be good if you stopped trying. —The king of the underworld interrupts, returning to his serious countenance. It was strange to see his boy turn against him.

—Why would I do that?

Louis' gaze changes to one full of anxiety, even emotion. — _ I've found your soul. _

Harry shook his head, backing up and crashing into the closet behind him. —I don't want my soul. —He said, determined. —I'm fine like this.

—Too bad for you, because we're going to hell and I'm gonna get you back to normal.

It was when the Devil tried to take the boy by the hand that the latter was much quicker. He pulled the knife out of his sleeve and took it firmly by the handle, plunging it about three times into his husband's chest before pulling it out and holding it in his hand.

Louis frowned before lowering his gaze to his own chest. The room began to shake so badly that the curly boy wobbled, and he didn't wait for any reaction, just leapt to the door, trying to open it and failing to do so. He began banging on it desperately as he heard things falling from the walls and the furniture.

—Help! Help me!

—You should know by now that wherever you want to go right now... I'm going to find you.

—HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME, PLEASE! —He screamed louder, starting to kick the door and hit it with his left shoulder.

**_He wasn't going to get his soul back. No._ **

—Harry... —Louis, who sounded completely calm despite having been stabbed by his husband, wanted to warn. He had it in his head that that boy wasn't really his boy.

A voice outside the motel room interrupted him. —Who knocks so much? —It was heard. It was the old lady in the reception, who was now banging on the door slowly from the other side. —Boy? Are you trapped?

—Help! Help me!

—Harry.

—HELP! —The blows increased.

Unexpectedly, the room stopped shaking and Louis took him by the arm, turning him over and looking straight into his eyes, with his jaw more pronounced than usual.

—Pay attention to me. —He said, in his low voice as he heard the old woman speak in the background and knock from the other side. The curly boy looked at him with his eyes slightly narrowed and his breath shaking from fidgeting. —You're going to open that door and tell her you couldn't open it, and then you're going to come with me to hell and I'm going to bring you back. You can't help it, so be smart and face this.

—Young man? I'll go get my son! Maybe he can help you!

Harry turned abruptly and opened the door wobbly. The old woman turned to look at him again, worried.

—Oh, my God! —The sweet old woman held a hand to her chest, approaching the curly boy. —Are you alright?

Harry put on his nicest fake smile. —Oh yeah. Yes. The door was just stuck, and I got really scared. —He said, giggling at the end.

The old woman shook her head as a small smile spread across her lips. —Oh. Relax, honey. You can always knock, and I'll come help you. —Harry nodded as an idea crossed his mind. He held the knife better in his hand. —Or if you have any other problems, I can change your ro-

A cry came from her lips as the curly boy quickly took her by the arm and positioned himself behind her, brushing her neck with the knife and staring at the Devil who had probably, for the first time, been caught off guard. He looked more and more angry, he knew it was going to cost him, because his boy had been absorbed into the darkness faster than a normal person, and that surely had an explanation that he hadn't yet discovered.

The old woman sobbed, closing her eyes. —Please. P-Please.

—Louis, I'm gonna kill everybody before you turn me into a fool again. I'll-

He was interrupted by a snap from the Devil. The lady fell to the ground, dead. Louis preferred to be the one to kill her, because he no longer knew how he would help Harry after he killed his cousin.

The knife flew out of the hand of the last mentioned, and when he turned to try and escape, he was caught in the arms of the king of the underworld, who held him immobile.

—Let me go! LOUIS!

The named man ignores him completely, and doesn't even warn him when they teleport. Everything there was different and, if Harry had a soul, they would have to do the stairs game, but being just a body, it wouldn't affect anything to go to hell right away.

They were in that round room with many doors. In the middle was the recognisable and elegant staircase that led to a basement where the Devil had that very well cared for office. Louis went to one of the enormous doors, the second from the door where the dungeon of souls was.

The Devil went in with his husband - who kept shouting at him to put him down - into the room with the old, heavy, dark wooden door. The room seemed to be nothingness itself, for there was only one stretcher in the centre, with a bulb of light shining down, hanging from a wire. The corners couldn't be seen because of the darkness, but there was no one there. Just them.

Louis left Harry carefully on the stretcher, and when he tried to escape, he was grabbed by the shoulders and put back to bed.

—Louis! Louis, look at me. Love.... —The archangel looked up at the boy immediately, unable to help himself. He had no tears in his eyes, but his frown was slightly furrowed and he looked in pain. He was a good actor. —...Lou, don't do this. You're going to kill me, please... I love you.

Louis gulps down hard before looking away and pulling the knife out of his sleeve, raising his free hand and placing the sharp point in his sleeve, beginning to say words in an indecipherable language.

—Louis! You're gonna get me killed, Louis!

—I'm not gonna let you turn into a monster. —He only responds when he has finished quoting those incomprehensible words, and cuts his palm, noticing a slight glow in the blood. His hand was too tense and it was due to something so pure inside the Devil's palm.

Again, he quoted other words in a strange language.

—I'll be a monster with my soul! At least I don't recognize it now! Do you have any idea how I'm gonna feel? Knowing I killed Fionn? That I murdered my family? —Louis ignored all that, making a fist with his hand before turning it. Harry decided to raise his voice in desperation. —Do you think I'm going to forgive you? Do you think I'm going to continue to love you after what you did?! I had no feelings for you before I stayed like this! NOTHING!

Louis stared at him, unable to avoid paying attention.

—I was just afraid of you, and that's why you had me. There's nothing you provoke in me but terror and pleasure. Soul or no soul, I'm going to keep pretending. —He took a deep breath. —I've never loved you.

—I don't care...—The archangel simply answered. —...because  _ I do love you _ ... —He finally said it. Too bad the curly boy couldn't really appreciate it. He looked back at his hand. —...and I'm not gonna let you become what you once begged not to be.  _ Descendit _ .

He taped his palm to the chest of the curly boy with some force, who immediately let out a scream that echoed across the room, arching his back and pulling his head back. Louis, with his eyes a little wider than usual, watched both the curly boy's face and his hand on his chest. He felt as if something was being painfully sucked out of his palm, though to him it was like a tickle. He could feel how strong his soul was, and how he stopped breathing, with his scream ceasing until he collapsed on the stretcher, his face sweating, pale.

The suction on Louis' hand stopped a few seconds later, and he put his hand away, staring at Harry's body. He placed one of his hands back on the boy's chest. There was no heartbeat.

_ He wasn't breathing either. _

Louis quickly passes his arm under his husband's back, raising him a little and laying him on his chest, noticing his head falling forward. He quickly brought his other hand to his chin, lifting his face.

—Harry? Hey, Harry. —He moved him slightly as his brow furrowed slightly. He made the sweaty curls that fell on his forehead backwards, stroking his cheek. —Come on, come on, come on. —He whispered slowly.

He noticed that after a few seconds he continued in the same way so, trying to keep control, he put his hand back on his chest. He was going to revive him.

He concentrated and did what he always did but, despite several attempts, he never heard the heartbeat. He swallowed hard, grunting.

—No… no, no, no. Wake up. —He moved him again as he held him better in his arms, bringing him closer to his chest. He quickly shook his head. —Wake up, damn it. —He growled.

It was the first time he was ever truly frightened. When he was about to die and he had to possess him, at least he was reacting, and he knew that, one way or another, he was going to bring him back to life. But now he had tried everything, and he was still not reacting. He stroked his cheek, frowning even more. It couldn't be, it couldn't be happening...

He tries, for the last time, to revive him. Taking his hand to the boy's chest, he closes his eyes tightly, concentrating. It should have happened by now, he should have felt his heart beating, or at least heard his breathing.

_ Was he really dead? Would he really not come back? _

He opened his eyes slowly, hoping to meet the eyes of his husband, his boy. He wanted to admire that unique green color, and notice the sparkle in his eyes. He wanted to hold him better, and promise that no one would ever make him suffer again, that he was a fool because it was not in his nature to love, nor did he know how to show it, but he would do his best. He would learn for him, he would do anything for him.

However, he found the curly boy's eyes closed, and he touched the cold skin on his cheek before holding him to his chest. His gaze went forward to a fixed point, and his eyes slowly turned black. There was no trace of light blue, no white or burgundy. They were completely dark.

A grunt began to rise in his throat, ending with a loud cry full of helplessness and fury. Hell shook. The souls in the dungeon, terrified by the noise, began to beg to be let out from behind bars. The endless queue in another of the rooms staggered as the demons watched each other.

And it didn't matter anymore. If he had to, he'd make the world disappear in a snap.

Because his husband, his child... the prince of the underworld was gone.

And if Louis ever thought he had been angry, he was wrong. This was being angry, full of helplessness...

...This was heartbreak.


	32. XXIX. "The New And Final"

How much time had passed?

He wasn't quite sure. He was still there, embracing the body of his favorite boy, stroking his precious curls, admiring him.

_ “I've never loved you.”  _ Those were his last words. Louis tried not to be influenced by that, because he remembered how Harry felt about him before he had no soul, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get rid of that memory.

The worst part of it is that he couldn't even die. There was nothing to kill him, he was doomed to it. He was condemned to live knowing he had killed the love of his eternity.

With his thumb he caressed his lips, which were pale, the same color as his beautiful face. He would never taste those lips again, nor hear his sweet voice. He would never see his pretty little dimples marked by his shy smiles.

It was so unfair. He had tried...

...He had really tried to be at least a little bit good.

A strong, cold breeze interrupted his thoughts, a loud shriek echoed, and he was forced to let go of Harry when he was thrown into a corner, in the darkness of the room. The curly boy's body fell to the floor because he hadn't been repositioned on the stretcher. Louis grunted furiously before rising from the floor, watching the tall, black-cloaked figure, this time with a sharp-pointed scythe in one hand, make his way towards the body of his husband.

Louis made a fist with his hand forward, holding Death in place. His eyes were completely black again. He moved his hand hard, and Death was thrown across the room, first to one side, then to the other.

—Don't fucking touch him. —The Devil snarled, eventually drawing Death in front of him. —I'm going to tear you apart, slowly and painfully.

The scythe flew across the room, falling in the middle of it, and Louis took the neck of the supernatural thing in front of him, squeezing hard and feeling the bones against his hand. He smirked, pleased, but again he was serious, and with a shout full of fury he threw Death to the other side of the room.

Nothing gave him any satisfaction anymore, all he felt was a deep hole in his chest, and even killing the reason his boy was dead was no consolation.

**_Even less knowing that the real reason was him._ **

—It was all his plan, right? —He says, smiling bitterly as he notices the figure in black rising from the ground and letting out another scream. Louis staggers back. —He wanted this, God wanted Harry. And you gave it to him. You took his soul so that I could put it back into his body, and failed. Now he's dead, and there's no way to bring him back. Bravo. —Death, who was already standing, was walking again towards the curly boy. —That's a great lesson, using people to prove things. —He nodded slowly.

It had all been just a game from the one above. Or so he thought.

He looked up when he noticed Death's hand going in the direction of the curly boy's chest, and it was just as he was about to push it away, just as he was about to kill it, that it screamed, louder than ever before being thrown, without even time to fall to the ground because it unexpectedly turned to ashes, vanishing into the air.

Louis frowned, totally confused. That hadn't been him. He looked to the door, looking for something to come into the room, but there was nothing.

Suddenly, Harry took a deep breath, opening his eyes wide and starting to cough.

Louis' eyes opened wide. —Harry?! —He strides up to the boy, kneeling and holding him when the curly boy tries to sit down, confused.

He blinked quickly, his breath shaking and his body trembling before looking up at the Devil, staring into his eyes. Louis looked back at him, noticing that glow he had missed so much.

—...Lou? —His voice trembled. He felt awful, like he was really sick..

The Devil couldn't believe it, he was between excited, anxious, confused and scared. What the fuck had happened?

—Harry... —He took him by the face, caressing him. He was still cold and pale, which worried him greatly. He admired him, noticed every detail. The way he blinked, the way he breathed, the way he watched him. —... Is it really you?

The curly boy frowned slightly at the question, more than confused but still slowly nodding. Louis immediately wrapped one arm around his torso, resting his free hand on the crown of his boy's head, drawing him to his body and positioning his face on his husband's neck, breathing in his scent deeply and trying not to explode with happiness. He was alive, he could feel his pulse.

Harry answered the hug immediately, wrapping his arms clumsily around the Devil's neck and breathing deeply, trying to stay calm, to stop shaking. He closed his little eyes with some force, not knowing that Louis was doing the same. Both were just feeling, enjoying that moment.

—Lou... —Louis moved away just a little bit, keeping his face very close to the boy, caressing his back carefully. He was afraid to make any sudden movements that would make him disappear. —...What happened? —He looked around before he looked back at his husband. —Where are we?

—You don't remember anything? —The boy shook his head, surprising the king of the underworld. Didn't he remember being soulless and the things he did? —We're in hell. What's the last thing you remember?

—My birthday. —He answers, uncertain. He had some things on his mind, besides a migraine, one which intensified with the passing of the seconds and he tried to hide it. —I... I remember when you possessed me, I can't... I mean, I don't... I don't remember...

—It doesn't matter, it's okay. —He took him by the face carefully, reassuring him. —You'll remember, eventually. —He said, stroking one of his cheeks.

Harry watched him fondly for the way the Devil was behaving, though he was worried about how frightened he looked. He tilted his head toward the caresses on his cheek, but was forced to close his eyes, frowning in pain.

—What is it? What's wrong? Do you feel something? —Harry nodded slowly, and a sharp pain in his arm forced him to whine loudly, lowering his face but with his eyes closed. His head was splitting. —Harry.

The boy groaned louder, complaining as his body slackened. Louis held him against himself, while the room began to tremble slightly. His gaze went to the skin on the boy's neck, and he opened his eyes wide as the veins became visible, turning black.

—Lou! —He screamed, squirming. Louis held him better and put his hand to the curly boy's cheek to ease the pain, but that didn't happen. —I-It hurts... My arm!

The Devil's gaze was immediately upon the child's arm, and as he held his back, with his free hand he took the boy by the arm and rolled up the sleeve, observing the mark. It seemed to be burning as something like a bright red scythe began to form.

Louis was about to take a moment to relax when the mark stopped forming and the child's arm loosened, but when he looked up at his husband's face, he noticed blood falling from a tear in his left eye, which was closed.

—Harry. —He held him better. The boy was no longer in pain, but he was agitated and sobbing silently, overwhelmed. —Boy, open your eyes, please. —He asked. He needed to check, he needed...

Harry's eyes opened slowly, as if it were hurting him, and the archangel was completely silent when he noticed one of these had a black patch between the precious green.

**It couldn't be.**

The curly boy's pout trembled, as did his whole body. He could no longer try to stay calm after that, it had been overwhelming enough to even try.

—W-What's happening to me? —The Devil is forced to react when he sees his husband frightened, and he immediately embraces him, cradling him against his chest and taking him by the wrist with his free hand to see the mark better. Harry blinked and looked at the mark, with his scowl slowly furrowing. —...What's that?

Louis swallowed, not daring to touch that mark, which seemed freshly baked and ready to send anyone who wanted to touch it flying. He looked up again into the boy's eyes, admiring that little detail in it.

—Harry... —He noticed the color coming back to the boy's lips, the black veins disappearing. Everything seemed to start to settle down, as did his thoughts. He turned his face and looked at the scythe in the distance, which was still in place, and even exuded a much more powerful vibe than before. That was the last piece missing from the enormous puzzle. — _ You are the new and final Death. _

After that horrible episode, and after Louis had said aloud that Harry was the last Death, the latter seemed to be completely terrified by it. No, it couldn't be possible. He didn't want that.

Louis had taken it upon himself to take his husband in his arms and leave that room, but he was stopped by the boy, who asked him to return for the scythe. When he took it, he could see the satisfaction on the boy's face, and the fear. He just huddled him more tightly against his chest, and took him out of that place to carry him down the stairs to his office.

When they got there, everything seemed calmer and less terrifying. It was a very quiet place, which was just what Harry needed after having gone through so much pain and screaming. He was left on a sofa in the corner, facing the fireplace, with hundreds of books on each huge shelf. The Devil sat down quickly beside him as Harry kept holding his hand. It was driving him crazy, he had missed him so much.

They stayed silent for a few seconds, where Harry watched the mark on his arm, and the Devil stared at the boy's face.

—Does it hurt? —Harry shook his head at his husband's question, swallowing hard. —Harry, look at me. —The named immediately obeyed, watching the archangel intently. —I'm never leaving your side. It won't happen again... unless that's what you want.

—I don't want you to leave. —He answered quickly to Louis' words, denying. —I just... I don't understand. I don't understand anything, I'm just so overwhelmed.

—I'll explain. —The Devil fixed his favorite boy's tousled curls before he started: —Harry, when you were possessed by me on your birthday, I made time for you to heal inside, your family learned many things about us, because of me. When I noticed that you were already healed, I went inside your mind to talk to you, do you remember that?

—Yes, I remember that. —The curly boy confirmed, nodding slowly before rolling down the sleeve of his T-shirt so that he could no longer see the mark on his arm and pay close attention to his husband. —I remember you told me to wait for you, and I thought I was coming back, and I woke up here.

—It's been several weeks now. Almost a month. —The boy raised both eyebrows, surprised. —Your family has known absolutely nothing about you since a few days after your birthday.

—I-I… I don't understand.

Louis sighed. He wasn't going to lie to him, because if Harry wanted to get away from him, he'd be all right.

—Even though I told you the deal was off, it was your own decision but, technically, the contract still stood. Contracts can't be broken, like it or not. It's something that's not up to me. That's why when I decided to leave completely, since I knew that your family would check in many ways if you still had a relationship with me, I had to end the contract. I took your soul. When I or any demon takes souls, they automatically fall into hell, because there was a contract. I came back here after making sure your family took you to the hospital, and when I looked for the person in charge of souls and contracts, Baphomet, he told me that they had already taken care of returning your soul to your body. I decided not to return, and sent crows to watch over you until your parents were no longer over you. Days later, Baphomet was found dead, and when I returned to earth to see you, I discovered that your soul hadn't returned.

—Does that mean I've been soulless all this time? Is that why I don't remember anything? Did I hurt someone?

Louis shook his head. —No. —He lied. At least until everything was settled, and then he would tell him. —And yes, you've been soulless all this time. You left home in your father's car, and you came to London. We were jumping to conclusions about who had taken your soul, until I finally realized it was Death. This one probably took it from hell, and killed Baphomet. Death wanted to keep your soul, because without it in your body, there was no way that the mark on your arm would have any effect on you, and it wouldn't cease to exist.

It was all starting to make a lot more sense, but it was still scary. Running away from home? Driving? Nothing Louis said to him was typical of him. He couldn't help but feel a slight dizziness, so he closed his eyes and covered his face.

—This can't be happening, I don't... I don't want to become like Death was. I don't want to be like that, Lou. —Again, his voice began to tremble. He uncovered his face and shook his head. —I don't want to.

—You're not going to be what Death was. This one had made a pact with me to be like that, it was like a punishment to become someone who only shrieked. —He snorted, still resentful of that stupid creature. He had put him through hell... even hell was calmer than what he had put him through. —You'll just be... immortal.

Harry looked up at the Devil immediately, blinking rapidly, not quite sure what he had heard. Immortal? Would he be immortal? He'd been wanting to be ever since he and Louis got engaged. He swallowed hard.

—I won't grow old?

—No.

—And that means... I won't be able to see my family anymore, right? —His eyes started to glaze over, but he wasn't going to cry. He didn't want to cry..

—I don't think that will be possible, Harry.

The boy nodded before looking down, and sipped his nose. He was beginning to accept things, even though he didn't like them at all, and was very sad about everything. He looked up again and watched his husband.

—You're my family, Lou. —He said, his voice cracking. Louis stared at him before getting closer, holding the boy's face as he held the archangel's wrists. Their noses brushed. —I've wanted this for a long time, and I knew it would have its consequences.

—But you're sad.

Unable to avoid it, a couple of tears fell down his cold cheeks, and the Devil quickly wiped them away. —I'm scared, I don't know what it's gonna be... what it's gonna be like to be the last Death.

—You'll be fine, Harry. I promise. I love you.

Harry's face moved slightly away, not quite sure what he had just heard, that last thing repeating itself over and over in his head. He blinked, his eyelashes glinting slightly with tears, and smiled slowly and shyly, his little dimples marking his cheeks.

—You said it... —He whispered, stunned.

Louis couldn't help but smirk slowly. —That's my third time saying it, kid.

—Third?

—I said it before I left on your birthday, and I said it again before I put your soul back into your body. This is the third time.

—Oh… I'm sorry, Lou. I wish I could remember.

**_No, you don't._ **

Louis shakes his head slowly, serious. —No need, now it's perfect for you to remember. —And, without further ado, he came forward and joined his lips with his boy's.

Both sighed through their noses, relieved as they stood close and moved their lips slowly, tilting their heads to the opposite sides. The Devil's hands came down to the boy's waist, and he led his hands from the archangel's chest around his neck, clinging.

For Louis, it was a relief to finally be reciprocated with feeling, to finally have his husband in his arms. Just a couple of hours ago he thought he would never see him again, or kiss him or see him smile, and now he was there with him.

And he would be for all eternity.


	33. XXX. "The Angel Of Death" I/II

The Devil and Harry had spent long hours in hell, which had been days on earth. They had spent them talking about what had happened and, more than anything, pampering each other. Harry was really overwhelmed by all that had happened, and he still didn't feel well. He was very weak, so weak that he could barely stand up. His eye hurt, with which he saw slightly cloudy around, and his head throbbed.

Louis had all his attention on him, and tried to heal him, but it wouldn't be possible, and if he overstepped his powers the Harry's mark could take him as an attack and throw him away. He wouldn't die, but he didn't want that either, knowing that his favorite boy would feel guilty enough not to even want to get close.

In the Devil's office there was nothing but calm, with the sound of wood burning in the small fireplace, and their breaths. However, Harry knew he couldn't spend his life there. He needed to move, and a strange feeling made him want to start his work as Death.

It was strange to say it, or even to think about it.

He would never have imagined himself in a situation like this. Did Louis know? He thought he didn't, but he had told him before that he had been watching over his soul forever. Could Louis have felt it? He remembered his expression of total surprise when he confirmed that he was the last Death, and discarded it completely.

When the boy asked his husband to leave that place, Louis immediately took him to Bristol, another small town, where he had seen God more than once. They stayed in a hotel without having to pay thanks to the powers of the king of the underworld. The room was much nicer than the previous hotel although, of course, Harry couldn't remember it. The hotel was in a central location, full of bars and shops. None of them cared, but Louis thought they could use it to practice the powers of his favorite boy.

Harry had placed his - now treasured - scythe in the corner of the room. It emanated a powerful vibe, a little dangerous, the owner of the scythe would say, as he stared at himself in front of the bathroom mirror. He was dirty, in the pyjamas with which he woke up, which, without knowing why, had slight bloodstains.

He didn't want to ask.

He sighed after staring at his eyes, especially that black spot on one of them. He felt Louis' presence, which was now much easier to interpret, and saw in the mirror how he surrounded him with his strong arms from behind, brushing his cheek with the side of his boy's head.

The two of them shared a long look through the mirror, and Harry blinked quickly a couple of times before seeing himself.

—I need new clothes. —He commented with a lump in his throat, still aware of the bloodstains. What had happened?

—You should know that you need to start wearing dark clothes, because you are Death. However, I think that's your decision. —He added at the end. He knew that everything was too overwhelming for his poor boy, and he didn't want to scare him any more than he already was.

And, God, he could tell. Since Harry had turned into Death, he could feel everything much more intensely than he already did. Now he could feel his notable concern, and it was making him somewhat uneasy. He gently pressed his ringed fingers against the belly of the curly boy.

—Kid, tell me what you're thinking.

—It’s just... —He shook his head. He didn't even know where to start. Louis carefully turned him over in his arms. Harry was still a little delicate, luckily he could walk without really getting dizzy. He looked for his greenish look, but couldn't find it because he was avoiding him.. —...I don't know if I want this. It's not the clothes, or my eye, but it's just... —He remained silent. He sounded ungrateful, or so he thought. Louis lifted his chin with one hand, holding him by the waist with the other, and they stared into each other's eyes. —It wasn't what I had in mind. I don't know if I want to spend the rest of my life... of my eternity watching people suffer to death.

Louis slowly shook his head as he said the last words. —Your concept of being Death is poorly taught, as is to be expected with humans. —Harry watched him in mild confusion, tilting his head a little. —You've seen people die in a very cruel way. Yes, you will see bodies in very bad condition, and your mission is to take people's souls, but it's nothing scary, nothing that should scare you. —He pulled away just a little bit, holding his hands. Harry immediately caressed with his little fingers his husband's, which were really warm. —Harry, right now I can feel everything you emanate, and one of those things is peace. When people see you before they die, they're going to feel positive sensations they've never felt before. All this time they have been with a Death that made them die uncomfortably, and even many souls have been trapped in bodies.

—How will I be able to accompany so many people as they die and be available to even breathe? —Even thinking about it stressed him out, it was impossible. —People die every second all over the world.

—That's what the Reapers are for. —The Devil answered, noticing his husband's uneasiness. He tried to soften his voice more, not to lose his patience. He hated explaining things, many times his ego made him believe that everyone should know what he did, but he had to swallow it, because it wasn't just anyone, it was Harry. —They are your servants, and there are thousands of them. They already know that there is another Death, and that it is the last one, so they will probably bow to you and not speak to you.

Harry shook his head slowly. —That's not pretty.

—You're their king now, the real one. They have waited for you for thousands of years, and my advice as king of the underworld is to let them stay with that respect. Many times they think they have more rights than they're given, and you can't let that happen.

Silence fell for a couple of seconds. When Louis explained it like that, when Louis made him see that death was a new beginning, and that it was nothing like what humans imagined, he didn't feel like a real problem.

He made a slight pout with his lips, thinking. —It doesn't sound... so bad when you say it like that. —He commented, and had to close his eyes because of the sudden anguish in his chest, remembering a certain dismembered boy with a lost look, inside a bag. Had F... had he been able to have a new beginning? —I just... I can't stop thinking about... —His lips trembled as he tried to speak his name. He shook his head.

Again a little silence was present, and he knew that the Devil was thinking about what to say in response.

—We should talk about it.

—No. —The curly boy answered firmly, opening his eyes and looking at his husband. —I don't want us to ever talk about him. This is my way of getting over it.

Louis stares at him. Of course he would respect his husband's decision, but he also knew that, sooner or later, he would explode, and that wasn't good for the new Death. No, no. Even more so if this one had to endure all eternity.

—Okay. —Again he left kisses on his knuckles, rubbing his lips with that ring he had once given him. His engagement ring. Slowly, she guided the curly boy's hands to his own neck, making him wrap his arms around his neck, which the younger boy did. —Don't worry about the others. You can have a completely normal life.

A sigh came from the mouth of the short boy, dejected. —Lou, I don't think that will be possible.

Louis raised his eyebrows slightly, feeling that more like a challenge. He was the fucking Devil, and he could do anything, anytime. He was invincible, if he wanted to he could snap his fingers and burn down every town in England, or summon the fucking apocalypse.

So, if he could do all that, he could ultimately make the one person he cared about happy.

—Of course it is. —He affirmed, and drew him closer by the waist. —We can have a house anywhere you want, of the kind you want. —Harry's green eyes began to glow, even that dark part in one of them lit up a little. —Is that what my favorite boy wants?

With a noticeable blush on his cheeks, he nodded as a shy smile spread across his lips. —Yes. —He answered. Louis bent his face more, both touching his lips and the tips of his noses. —But only if that's what you want too.

The Devil smirked slowly. No one but his precious husband had ever asked him what he wanted.

—Anyway, we need a place. —Again the archangel spoke, caressing with his fingers the lower back of his boy. —I would suggest hell, but clearly you don't want to spend eternity in it.

—Your office is very nice, but the rest... —He shook his head. He didn't want to be bad because, after all, it had been something like a house for the Devil. —I prefer a... a house. —He was interrupted by an unexpected but soft kiss on his lips.

That's when Harry finally realized where his real home was, and that the wait had really paid off.

Yeah, it sucked being Death, having a lot of responsibility, but he was immortal. Finally, there wouldn't be sleepless nights where he worried about getting old, nor the thought that, one day, he would just be a memory in Louis' head. Now he was there, he was invincible and even more so with his husband by his side.

In the midst of the soft, slow kiss, a sharp pain in his head makes him pull away from the king of the underworld and stare at him. Images appear in his head. A cold night in the back seat of his father's Impala, on his husband's legs, kissing him. He blinks quickly and turns away a little, bewildered.

—What's the matter?

—Nothing, I-I... I just remembered something.

Harry can feel the Devil's restlessness as if it were his own after hearing that answer. He scowls a little.

—What did you remember?

—Did I kiss you in my father's car?

Louis just stares at him for a few seconds. —Yeah, we had a conversation.

He felt a shiver down his spine as he swallowed hard. —I... yes. I remember. —It was as if only a few seconds brought up all the things of that day. He could remember not feeling anything, he could remember the emptiness in his stomach and talking automatically, just thinking as if it was all just strategy. —What was I like without a soul?

—A pain in the ass. —Louis couldn't help but use his sincerity, much more than he usually did. Harry also couldn't help but notice the indignation showing on his face. —You were neutral. There was darkness in you, and I tried my best to delay it. At first I knew it wasn't you, but as time went on I began to despair, to miss you, and I was quite confused. I let my guard down, and I kissed you. —He wasn't going to lie to him, he wanted Harry to know, but just a few things. —Then I could feel it was wrong, and I just focused on getting you back.

—I understand. —Harry nods, but shame forces him to look down. He feels bad for having been a burden. —I'm sorry I was like that.

—No need to apologize, it wasn't really you. —Louis looks for his gaze, tilting his face slightly. Harry raises his a little, and they stare at each other. —You’re here now... —He sighs deeply through his nose, and looks lost in his own thoughts as he admires the boy in front of him. —...finally, with me. —He finishes, slightly lowering his tone.

—And for all eternity.

Louis exhales sharply, satisfied with those words. —Come here. —He grunts, bringing his pretty husband closer and kissing him slowly, carefully.

They caress their lips, tilting their heads and closing their eyes as they relax against each other's bodies. Louis presses the palm of his hand against the lower back of his favorite boy, while with his other hand he holds his chin firmly, without hurting him. He wanted to devour his mouth.

It is at that very moment when he sticks his tongue in, finding Harry's, that the glass of the mirror shatters, and both the bathroom and bedroom light bulbs explode. The curly boy opens his eyes, scared and looking around, still with the grip on his chin he gets closer to the Devil. The worry and anguish that something is wrong again hurts his chest.

—What was that? —He asks in a trembling voice, drawing his gaze, with a slight frown, to that of the Devil, who is smirking very coquettishly.

—You. —He answers, and he even looks a little proud. Seeing the surprised look of the youngest of the two, Louis gives a lick on the red and appetizing lips of his husband.. —You have powers now, just like me. You have to learn to control them.

—But I... I don't even know how I did that. —He answered perplexed, and tried not to moan at the gentle squeeze on one of his buttocks.

—I’ll teach you. —The Devil answers, caressing his favorite boy's body. It's just that Harry was so beautiful. He looked around before he looked at him again.. —I don't think there's anything else you can destroy. —And just like that, he kissed him.

Louis didn't understand how he had endured so much, and Harry didn't know until that moment how much he had missed making love to his husband. They were kissing deeply, their tongues slowly caressing each other, heatedly, standing in the bathroom of that cheap hotel in Bristol. Their hands were all over each other, and it was when Louis noticed that, slowly, Harry stopped standing on his tiptoes because of his tiredness, that he grabbed him by the thighs and carried him back to the room.

Harry felt his back hit the mattress of the only bed in the room, and he spread his legs to allow the body of the Devil in between. He ran his hands down his husband's warm back, and Louis brought his hands to his favorite boy's waist, slowly lifting his pajama top.

His lips descended to the jawbone of the curly boy, who was breathing more deeply, with his eyes closed and his head tilted. Just for today, he wouldn't be so shy about sex, because he had missed it too much. He had missed the bursts of pleasure, the warmth of Louis' body, his lips, his hands caressing him, his... everything about him.

The Devil finally took off his shirt, and looked at his torso, caressing it slowly, giving him chills.

He growled. —Mine.

—Yes...

His lips moved down his husband's neck, reaching his chest, and taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking. Slight shivers ran down the boy's body, and he found himself arching his back slightly, with his lips half open, unconsciously raising his hips, rubbing his member with Louis's over their trousers.

—Fuck. —Louis put one hand on the curly man's chin, holding it firmly as he continued to suck on that nipple, which looked truly appetizing. He pushed his hips against the boy's, and heard him pant. —Babe, you have no idea how much I needed to have you like this.

Harry was panting softly, with his lips half open, and Louis took the opportunity to push his index and middle finger into his mouth, feeling his tongue, which immediately licked his fingers. He growled, and lowered his hips even harder, stealing sighs and soft sounds from both of them.

It happened too fast.

Harry felt as if the mattress was absorbing him. He saw himself being pulled away from Louis, as if the bed had swallowed him up, and in the blink of an eye he was somewhere else.

Confused and more than disconcerted, feeling the cold ceramic of the floor against the skin of his back, he sat down abruptly and looked around. A hospital... What was he doing in a hospital?!

He blinked slowly. He quickly embraced himself, trying to cover the nakedness of his chest and the visible erection under his pants.

—...Oh-uh.


	34. XXX. "The Angel Of Death" II/II

He rose slowly from the ground. He felt no pain at all, only mild chills as he felt the cold ceramic of the floor against his naked back after such a hot situation. He looked around, more uncertain than before. Luckily, the door was closed, and it seemed to be night wherever he was, so there weren't many people wandering around the hospital.

And, of course, the... well, his scythe was lying on the ground. **Would it follow wherever he went?**

He felt a breeze behind him, the recognizable presence, and quickly turned around, watching the mocking expression of his husband, who was perfectly dressed as he tried to cover even the slightest trace of skin, without success. He felt his cheeks begin to burn, and they looked at one another for only a few short seconds.

—I don't know how I got here.

—Duty itself has called you, and now you have to fulfill it. —He answered, and raised his hand a little higher, where he was holding his favorite boy's shirt. He took it quickly, putting it on. Honestly, he needed an urgent change of clothes. —Once you've mastered your powers, it won't happen anymore.

The curly boy snorted, even more flushed. He really didn't want to be in a much more compromising situation and transport himself. Having put his shirt on, he looked around better, and his gaze settled on the stretcher in front of him, leaving him stunned.

—I... —He frowned slightly as the memories came to his mind. It was the same girl, and she was the same way, her eyes closed, pale, thin, and connected to a machine so she could breathe. Next to her rested a small cuddly toy rabbit that was missing an ear and looked a little dirty. —This... I've seen this before. I've been here. —He claims slowly. It was definitely the same.

—When you were soulless you mentioned dreaming about this. It may have been a prediction.

And Harry could definitely hear him, but there was something that wouldn't let him take his eyes off that little girl. There was something that called him to be there, by her side, and when his eyesight was slightly blurred by concentration, he could indulge in watching something white, slightly transparent, float around her body. It was like a vibe, and he could feel it extremely faint, about to disappear.

**He needed it.**

Noticing his own thoughts made him feel a slight pain in his chest, and by inertia he retreated. He was getting frightened, and when the Devil felt that, he immediately brought his hand to his husband's lower back, holding him and looking into his eyes.

—Now that you are Death I can feel your emotions, even stronger than before. Unfortunately for you, so can the child. —He had to be honest, he couldn't lie to his boy, he was already trying to withhold the matter of having been soulless.

—B-but, I... —Harry began to despair slightly, and his mind forced him to stay calm. He had to be clever, he had to obey what his husband indirectly asked of him. Yet when he looked down at his own hands, they trembled. —...I don't know if I can, Lou.

—Yes, you can. —Louis said, almost grunting and coming a little closer. Harry looked at the girl when he heard a pained gasp from her, and felt more panic in his chest, but his husband took him by the face so that their eyes met. —You are responsible for taking her to the other side, you need to bring her wellbeing and peace so that she is not afraid. —He wiped with his thumb the moisture that was forming under his favorite boy's beautiful eyes. —You don't have to be sad, dying is a quiet and painless process. —Even though he wasn't really patient, he knew he had to be with his husband, or he would chicken out, and everything would go to hell… literally. —I'll come as soon as you're done. Call me, and I'll come.

—What? No. —The boy quickly took him by the arm, opening his little eyes and quickly shaking his head. —Lou, I don't think I can do this without you. —He whispered, feeling a lump in his throat.

—If I stay, the child will suffer because of my presence, and I know you care about that. —He noted. And it was true, because ever since Louis had set foot in that room, the little girl hadn't stopped whining. The Devil took him by the hand and left a soft kiss on the back before slowly letting go and stepping back, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

He glanced around before looking back at the stretcher, and took a deep breath. He inhaled, held his breath for a few seconds, and released it slowly. His hands slowly stopped shaking, and his thoughts slowly settled. He had to take this as completely normal, because fate had chosen him for this.

He bent down and picked up the scythe. The mark on his arm burned slightly, and he felt it much firmer. He felt... really powerful. Slowly, he began to take steps to stand beside her, and knelt on the ground. Trying to stay calm, he kept watching her. He looked at the little details on that girl's face. She was more beautiful than in his dreams. She had moles, small freckles on her cheekbones and nose, and her hair was really long, red. She no longer looked sick, but rather, she looked relaxed.

Harry blinked quickly, and was surprised to notice his own hand on the cold cheek of the worldly. This one, slowly, found herself opening her eyes to the touch. They were dark, and her gaze attracted too much attention from whoever saw her, for she had a special and unique glow. The curly boy didn't know exactly why he found himself noticing such things.  _ Was it part of being Death? _

The girl's breathing increased, and Harry immediately shook his head.

—It's okay, it's okay. There's no... you don't have to be afraid. —He smiles shyly at her, and is doing his best not to cry. Slowly, and very carefully, he brings his hand to the little girl's opposite hand, covering it before giving a gentle squeeze. He had to do it right, this wasn't just anything. —I'll take care of you. You can sleep.

The little girl opens her mouth and tries to say something, but she seems to run out of air very easily.

—Don't talk, it's alright. —He raises both eyebrows, and looks down at that girl's lips when he notices she is articulating a word, over and over. His heart turns, and this time he smiles sweetly, feeling his cheeks blush. —Yes... yes, I'm an angel.

**Of death.**

The girl begins to slowly close her eyes, and Harry feels an impulse, which he immediately allows. He knows it's part of it, he knows that if he doesn't, nothing will happen. He slowly gets up from the floor, without letting go of the young girl's little hand, and leans over to her, leaving a little kiss on her forehead.

Something flutters in his chest, and that slightly visible vibe around the stretcher disappears.  _ She was dead. _

Harry keeps looking at her with a lump in his throat, and gently releases her hand, placing it on the stretcher. He watches the machine start to make that beeping sound, which indicated that her heart was no longer beating. He turned to the end of the stretcher, about to call Louis, but stopped when he noticed a woman standing... next to the same girl who had died a few seconds earlier.

The woman was wearing dark grey clothes, and her eyes were on the ground, never looking at Harry. Instead, the girl waved to him, saying goodbye. The curly boy didn't have time to return that greeting because, in the blink of an eye, they were gone.

And he was still just as stunned, just blinking and looking at a fixed point.

The door is slammed, and more than two doctors enter the room. Harry realizes he's ruined it when their eyes are on him. Of course, he hadn't learned how to make himself invisible, or anything else but explode lights for kissing his husband.

—What are you doing here? Who let you in?

And Harry doesn't even have time to respond - although, honestly, he didn't know what he might say - when, in the blink of an eye, he is brought back to the hotel. The Devil's arms are wrapped around him, and he just lays his cheek on his husband's warm chest, breathing very audibly as he keeps looking at a fixed point.

His hands and legs are shaking. All the nerves he'd been swallowing to keep that lovely girl calm were taking effect right now. He breathed shakily and sought to hold on to Louis, closing his little eyes.

—I-I... I did good.. —He stammered, and released the scythe, which he had firmly grasped in his hand. It fell to the ground, and the Devil took that opportunity to take his favorite boy in his arms as he noticed his legs trembling.

—You did brilliant.

They were both lying in that hotel bed. Harry was facing the wall, and Louis was wrapping one of his arms around him from behind, holding him close to his chest. The curly boy hadn't said a word during the long hours they'd been there, just kept breathing quietly, playing with the rings on his husband's hand and watching his engagement ring.

—Lou... —He finally spoke, and cleared his throat as his voice was slightly hoarse. —...I’m better. —When he got no answer, he turned around. He noticed the Devil's look on him, and they watched each other for a few slight seconds before Harry spoke again. —I needed time to settle my thoughts.

—What were you able to settle?

—The girl's fine. She smiled at me before she left with the reaper.

The Devil frowned a little. —I told you that would happen.

—Yes, I know. Apparently I had to see it to believe it. —He looked down and wrinkled his nose a little, thinking. —Doesn't it scare you? Having a really superior job.

—No. —He answered. —But I can understand why you are scared, since you have gone from having a completely worldly life to being the last Death. They're completely opposite things. —Harry raises his eyes again, and his face a little bit too. Louis knows that when his boy did that it was because he needed affection. He tilted his face a little, and their noses brushed against each other. —You've got nothing to fear.

The curly boy's head tilted slightly, and his little eyes closed as he exhaled deeply through his nose. —You... you could... —He stopped for a few seconds, but the Devil remained silent, waiting. —Could you... take care of me, despite me being powerful?

**_Fuck._ **

Louis was almost growling with delight, and surrounded his husband's body better, drawing him closer. —You're my husband, I'll always take care of you. —He brushed their lips. —I don't know what you did to me, kid.

They share a sweet, slow kiss. Warm, but quiet. They don't intend to take it any further, they just want to feel close.

—I love you, Lou. —He received another kiss, and a slight, soft bite on his lower lip, which made him blush. When the Devil pulled away a little, Harry couldn't help but look down shyly. —Okay... now teach me. How do you do it?

—How do I do what?

—Being invisible. —It sounded a little clumsy to say. He looked up again, staring at the Devil. —How do you do all those things?

—I just think that's what I want, and it happens. Have you tried it?

Harry shook his head. —Not exactly.

—Okay. I'll tell you what. —Within seconds, the king of the underworld was on top of his husband's body, holding him by the waist and bringing his face to his neck, leaving soft, wet kisses on the skin. Harry found himself wrapping his arms around Louis' neck. —What do you say you and I go wherever it is you want to go? Somewhere secluded... and I'll show you everything you need.

Harry smiled shyly. —Seriously? —He heard a murmur of affirmation from the Devil, and he tilted his head a little more at the Devil's kisses on his chest. —Yes, of course. Where would we go?

—Wherever you want.

—I… I don’t know. —And Louis was surprised to hear a small giggle full of happiness.

He separated just a little, and watched him intently, hearing him talk about some countries which he had always been interested in visiting, but never considered the opportunity.

Then the Devil really began to think about whether it was necessary to tell him everything that had happened when he had no soul.  _ Was it? What would he change by telling him what had happened?  _ He couldn't bring them back from the dead, nor could he kill them. He himself had taken it upon himself in his little time away from his boy to guide the two souls into a corner in hell.  _ Would it change anything? Was he really going to ruin this happiness and calm that his boy was finally feeling? Was he going to make him sad for two scumbags who didn't even deserve to be remembered? _

**_He would never lie to him... unless it was to protect him._ **

Anyway, he really wouldn't lie to him. Harry would eventually remember, and he would tell him then. Meanwhile, he'd avoid it, and he'd remember more important things.

—...Lou? —The Devil raised both eyebrows in response. —So, what do you say? Would Russia be okay?

Louis nodded. —Everything my favorite boy wants. —He left a slow kiss on his lips, which gradually became deeper and wetter. Their tongues met with soft caresses and, again, Louis took off his shirt, passing his warm hands over the naked torso of his boy.

Harry unbuttoned the Devil's dark shirt, and his hands slid across the torso covered with tattoos of unknown symbols and unintelligible phrases. He admired the beauty which everyone rejected, and told himself he would put aside shyness as much as he could. He needed to make love to his husband, slowly and passionately, with nothing to inhibit him. He had missed him, and he needed him more than ever.

The kisses on his neck returned with slight sucking and licking, causing his breathing to falter as he placed his hands behind the Devil's back, slowly caressing him. How could he not be self-conscious, if Louis was a master with his mouth? He did everything perfectly, sending shivers down his spine and tugs on his belly. He lifted his hips when he felt his trousers being pulled down, stroking his thighs on the way and leaving him only in his underwear.

The kisses went from his neck to his jaw, finally ending on his lips. He opened his mouth to receive, again, that warm tongue, and tilted his head slightly as his hands went down his husband's torso to his pants, unbuttoning and pulling them down. The Devil was completely naked under that garment, as usual.

The sheets were removed once the last garment on Harry's body was missing, and they were covered with these. It was cold outside, and the curly boy wasn't fully recovered. He had gone from nothing to immortality, but his body temperature would be maintained for a while.

Louis laid down beside his boy and drew him much closer, without moving away from his lips. He put one hand on the curly boy's leg and held it above his hip, encircling him at the waist with the other arm. His ringed hand wandered down Harry's thigh, caressing him from top to bottom, giving light grips to one of his buttocks as he pressed him closer to himself.

The Devil broke the kiss, and brought two of his fingers to his mouth, feeling his suction. They could both feel the slight layer of sweat appearing as the minutes passed. Harry made small but slow movements with his hips, brushing his member with his husband's, gasping for breath. He had missed that feeling.

—Lou... —He said as the Devil's fingers came out of his mouth, and his breath cut off as he felt them in his entrance, caressing. He twisted slightly, and pushed his butt toward the caresses. The fingers of his husband's opposite hand pressed more against the skin of his hips, and he couldn't help but make a choppy sound as the two fingers, wet with his saliva, slowly moved inside him. —U-Uhm...

Louis only waited a few seconds, which he dedicated to kissing the face of his favorite boy, licking and biting his lips before moving his fingers in a sway, caressing the walls of his husband's interior, who responded to the kisses on his lips with shortness of breath.

The Devil was holding the curly boy's leg, caressing his tongue with his own and moving his fingers in a faster pace, going deeper and deeper, looking for that spot that stole his little boy's breath and made him pant for air.

It was when he finally did it, that he had to hold his husband more firmly when he noticed how he squirmed, with his lips half open, panting. Louis grunted low, panting at the pleasure he got from seeing his boy like that, and from the hip movements he made, forming an inevitable friction between the two.

It was only a few minutes later that he laid over his husband's body, trapped inside him, moving slowly but deeply as he held him in his arms, kissing him to death.

_ How did he end up like that? _

_ What he held in his arms, what he claimed with his kisses... the one he made love to carefully, was his most precious thing in the world. _

_ He had always been a selfish man, because the only thing he had that was precious was himself and his work. He felt important, he was, and above all essential in the shitty world. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted. He played with good people, but mostly with bad ones. He lied, and he destroyed with great pleasure, because that's what he was made for. He was made to do evil, both on earth and in hell. _

_ However, Harry showed up. This innocent and curious little boy, who thought he was looking for an easier way out with black magic, who thought everything would be easier, and less painful. _

_ Louis thought so, too. _

—Lou... —He gasped, moving his hips faster, contracting his insides and causing the king of the underworld to snarl. —M-More… Please.

The thrusts increased, hitting his head again and again against the sweet spot inside his husband, feeling him squirm, until he trembled slightly. He held him more firmly by the hips, feeling his precious little hands holding him by the arms. Harry was simply a piece of art.

_ He discovered it specifically on the first day, at night. He had been the first person to be nice to him because, despite being scared to death, he had offered him a place to sleep... to him, the Devil himself. And Louis could only remain silent, listening to sobs on the background and feeling the terror that the worldly felt. _

_ Because he didn't understand what was that was beating in his chest, and if it had been there before, but he hadn't noticed it. He didn't understand what was that bile coming up his throat, and the total blank. He had always had something to say, because everything was fluidly false, although coldly calculated. His sympathy was cardboard, he honestly hated explaining things, and he preferred to stay away from any useless human. _

_ But with his boy... he was just different. He wanted to be there, to flatter him, to talk about any stupid thing, even if it looked bad. _

_ The next day, when he saw him wake up with his curly hair and slightly puffy eyes, he knew. When he saw him yawn, and draw the blankets to his chest... he knew he wanted to see him like that every day on earth. _

It only took one thrust for his favorite boy to twist in his arms, choking on his breath as he arched his back, spilling his essence between the two torsos and bending his little toes. His lips were red as well as his cheeks, his curls uncombed, and his frown slightly furrowed. He spread out comfortably on the bed when he finished, and it took a couple of thrusts for Louis to taste the ecstasy.

_ "Heaven" had been a really nice place, albeit with a lot of falsehood. However, he had never felt he could touch anything more supreme, until now. With a deep sigh and coming out of the curly boy, he positioned himself beside him and drew him into an embrace. Both were breathing slightly agitated, and Harry didn't hesitate to hide his face in the Devil's neck, leaving a gentle kiss there. _

—Lou, I love you...

—I love you. —He wouldn't admit that he still found it hard to say it, and that he often feared he wouldn't be able to, because that wasn't his supposed job, but he tried to implement his motto of doing what he wanted to do, and if he wanted to love Harry, then he would.

They kissed again, more softly than before, and felt complete as they resumed the previous conversation, planning for the long future that lay ahead.

—...and also in December Russia gets really cold. I like the cold, and there will be lots of snow. We can, if you want to, of course, find some nice cabin to live in, far away from some city. —He commented with some insecurity, shyly as he looked into his eyes out of the corner of his eye.

The fact that someone asked him his opinion made him smile. Again he approached and left a kiss on the tip of his nose before drawing him to his warm chest.

—Anything you want, kid.

And they remained that way, silent, just hugging and thinking about what would happen.

**_Since when did he think about these things? How low had he fallen?_ **

Finally, he responded to his own conclusions:

**_He had already fallen once, centuries ago, but, even so, he was sure he had never fallen as he did when he fell in love with Harry Styles._ **

**FIN.**


	35. Epilogue I/II

**2003.**

He didn't know exactly how he ended up there.

Hell wasn't a place he liked to be. Yes, it was Louis' workplace, and yes, he would always be welcome. He even had his own throne, but still, nothing managed to attract him. He assumed it would be for all the souls who spoke to him, begging him to take them away, making his mind a mess.

But that day he needed it.

The doors of the corridor in which that long, endless line of souls stood opened. The demon who had been laughing and mocking - basically doing his job - stilled at the powerful presence, and it was as if the souls had awakened, because all those who were there looked at the door behind them.

Death took a step, and he looked... deadly, literally. His entire wardrobe was completely black: he wore short boots, tight, leather-like pants, a light shirt inside his pants and up to his neck, embroidered with lace at the ends. He wore a long coat, which was a mixture of raincoat and cape, with his short hair, and scythe firmly in his hand.

His expression was serious, and he didn't look really scary, for not only was his height hadn't changed, but he exuded plenty of tranquility, but the problem with the demons there was that he also exuded a lot of power, and they knew that if he wanted to he could annihilate them.

He scanned around with his green eyes before starting to walk slowly along the side of the line, his scythe hitting the ground with every step and his boots resounding.

He passed the demon bowing before him, and nearly entered the doorway that would lead to the dungeon, but stopped. It was only a few seconds before he turned, looked at the poor souls in the line, who had been there many years before he was immortal, and then turned his gaze to the demon, who didn't look him in the eye.

—I'm going to take them all. —He just said, and snapped his little fingers down the long sleeve of his coat.

All the bodies in the line collapsed in place, making a sudden, unison sound, and soon they deteriorated, leaving only a lot of dust in the place. Harry sighed, satisfied before he looked again at the demon, who was clearly holding back his fury.

—You should clean. —Death commented, nodding slowly, agreeing with himself before turning around.

—You...! You can't do that! —The demon exclaims, annoyed at having thrown away his work. Of course, new souls would come, but the fun was when they were always the same for a long time.

Harry again turned in his place, staring at him. A long time ago, Louis had told him to do that, because they felt the power even more and, quoting his husband: **_"...And like imbeciles they are, they will be afraid of you."_ **

And it was true. The demon immediately stepped back, dropped to his knees and bowed to him, begging for forgiveness in a whisper.

Harry frowned. —I'm not going to hurt you, you can stand. —He said, tilting his head slightly. The demon quickly rose, still half bowed. —I just... I want you to remind me what your king said... one more time.

The demon moved uncomfortably in its place. — _"If my husband wants to come here and blow this place up with his mind, I hope I don't find out you resisted, because I will..."_

—Just that. —Harry interrupted, waving his hand slowly, asking him to stop, and he did. —I hope I don't have to explain myself like this again, I really don't want the king to be angry.

—N-No, Your Highness.

—Good. —He nodded before turning and opening the door to the dungeon. —Have a nice day. —And closed it behind him.

He ignored the sound of the demon's tantrum, and walked through the corridors of the dungeon, releasing a few souls who begged him and he perceived that they were good people. He opened the door at the end, feeling a chill at the sight of that door where he had become what he was, and passed one of his hands over the staircase railing, going down.

Finally, he opened the golden door of his husband's office, just as he had taught him, and went inside, closing the door behind him before he went to his throne and sat there, placing the scythe beside him. He placed his elbow on the armrest and his forehead in his hand, closing his little eyes and sighing deeply.

It had been an extremely hard day. It had been years since anything like that had happened to him, and he had been able to maintain control perfectly, but he knew that at some point he would break down. His hands were shaking slightly, and he felt deep anguish in his chest. Clearly, he couldn't continue to work like this. It wasn't a questionable thing, it was a definite "no" and fortunately, before he went to Hell, he had had time to warn his faithful servants, the Reapers, that he would be momentarily out of commission.

The Reapers had turned out to be truly friendly, if slightly neutral, beings. Harry had to maintain his position with them, except with this Reaper to whom he owed more than his existence, because he was always there.

_Actually, he'd been there before he was even a Reaper._

Harry had learned from Louis that the Reapers were souls that neither ascended nor descended, and were trapped in their bodies. When the boy's powers advanced, after taking some time before such a decision, he simply followed his instincts.

**1998.**

_The only thing he really had a hard time with was carrying it around, and hiding it from Louis. He knew he wouldn't say anything, but he'd want to talk about it, and that's just what Harry didn't need._

_It had taken him a long time to learn, and there was always the possibility of it going wrong, but he had practiced, he had worked hard, and he wasn't going to back down out of fear. All his life he had taken wrong steps out of sheer cowardice, and meeting Louis had been the best thing that had happened to him, thanks to an act of courage towards the supernatural._

_He was going to do this, and if it wasn't what he wanted... then he'd let him go._

_Inside the crypt of Holmes Chapel Cemetery, his former home, he held his hand forward over that rotten, hard, cold smelling body. He had cried for more than twenty minutes before he was able to start what he was planning._

_He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, capturing a situation in his mind. A lifeless tree, dry and on the verge of collapse. His hand emanated power, light, and was able to remedy it. The tree returned to its place, and the light traveled along the trunk of the tree, beginning to ascend until the branches emerged along with many healthy green leaves._

_Without even noticing it, his lips were moving in a language he currently recognized, but he would never be able to explain. It was a language of unknown origin, and the words were beyond this world. Humans were probably too far away to match such a thing. It was amazing._

_He felt warmth in his palm, and remained that way for a few long minutes, until he felt only cold, and his mind darkened. He opened his eyes, looked down, and it wasn't long before his eyes opened wide at the same time as he took a few steps backwards. Suddenly he was a sixteen-year-old boy again, helpless and hyper-sensitive._

_Fionn Whitehead's chest swelled in a deep, slow breath as his eyes opened, revealing that beautiful blue. The pallor of his face didn't go away except for his lips turning slightly pink._

_—F-Fi? Fionn? —He got closer, reacting. It really felt like time never passed. When the resurrected boy sat down, Harry immediately brought his little hands to his friend's cheeks. —Fionn? Is it you? —His voice broke, but he wouldn't cry. He was perplexed, he didn't think it would work._

_He only blinked, but after a few seconds he was able to see Harry, who looked the same, but in dark clothes. His curly hair continued to curl sideways. He opened his lips and tried to speak, but his voice wouldn't come out. His throat was dry. He looked at himself, noticing his father's old suit. What had happened? He began to panic._

_—No, I... —Harry interrupted himself, looking around, not knowing exactly what to do. He had nowhere to go but to the house, where his beloved husband was. And he didn't want to hide this from him either, but he knew there would be an argument. He bit her lower lip for a few seconds. —...let's go somewhere safer. I'll take care of you._

_Without further ado, he held his friend's shoulders and, in the blink of an eye, the place changed. Now they were both standing, although Fionn was almost on top of Harry, who was trying to hold him up because his best friend was taller than him. They were in a room, a very nice, cozy room. The temperature was perfect for all the snow falling outside, being visible through one of the windows there._

_—Come, sit here. —The curly boy spoke quietly, rushing to sit Fionn on the couch, taking a blanket from him and wrapping it around him. He was totally overwhelmed, both by the resurrection and the change of scenery. —I'll get you some water, stay here. —And he ran out to the little kitchen in the place._

_He quickly took a glass of water, which fell on the counter due to his nerves, and filled it with water before returning to the room, helping his best friend drink, which he did desperately._

_—Fi, stay here. I swear I'll explain everything, but I need you to stay here. —He noticed his friend's nod as he continued to drink water, and that relieved him. He immediately ran down the little corridor of that beautiful house._

_He stopped suddenly when he noticed Louis coming out of one of the two rooms in the house, with a slightly frown and darker eyes. When he saw his boy, they became a lighter shade._

_—Why are you making so much noise? The ki... —He was interrupted when his little husband stood on his tiptoes and pressed his thick red lips against his own. Of course he didn't refuse._

_The Devil wrapped his boy's waist, drawing him in more as the two kissed slowly, deeply, but sweetly. The curly boy tilted his head slightly so that their noses wouldn't bump, and pulled away after a few seconds, gawking and rubbing noses with his husband._

_—Lou... —He began slowly, and his voice broke a little. Louis immediately moved his face a little further away, and as he saw the expression of the curly boy, his arms around him tightened as his eyes darkened again._

_—What did they do to you?_

_—No, no. N-Nothing. —He denied, and laughed nervously. He sighed deeply, and after a few seconds stared into his eyes. —I did something, and I think it was wrong, but... but I didn't want to lie to you._

_—Yes, I've noticed. I can feel someone in the house. Did you bring someone? Someone from your family? —The last thing he asked with a warning tone in his voice as he shook his head. —That's forbidden._

_—It's not someone from my family. Well... he's my family. I-I just..._

_They remained silent, just looking at each other, and it was as if Louis had read his mind. A sigh came from his lips before he shook his head, releasing his favorite boy from his arms._

_—Kid, you can't do that. —He said in a colder tone than usual. —I told you, there are certain rules._

_—Lou, I know but... but there's nothing wrong with this. Think about it, I brought him back, and I can do the ritual to turn him into a Reaper. If it's not what he wants, then I'll take care of taking his soul to heaven myself._

_—Excuse me, did you say "Do the ritual to turn him into a Reaper"? Absolutely not. You can't do that, no Death has ever made a Reaper before. The one above gets to choose, and send them off._

_—Then I'll talk to God. I'll tell him I'll start taking care of it. —Louis almost growled, frustrated. —I'm not like the other Deaths, Lou. This is not a bad thing._

_—The problem here is that not because you are Death do you have the right to revive humans that you liked, just as not because I am the Devil do I have the right to extinguish the population, even if many times I want to. —His patience was running out, that was quite noticeable from the way he spoke._

_—You know perfectly well that he's not just someone I liked. Fionn is my family, and he has been for a long time. The cause of his death was my fault. —His voice shook slightly, but he continued to try to look firm. Louis just watched him. —You know I've been feeling guilty since he died, and I don't know how you came to think I could live forever with this on my chest._

_—Are you implying that I've forced you to stay like this for eternity? —The discussion was clearly getting worse. Louis too felt guilt, guilt that without him nothing would have happened, but he had never forced Harry to be immortal. The latter had wanted it, and given the last thing he had said, he felt as if it hadn't been consensual. —I didn't think you could live with this. You've made it clear to me from the start that you never want to talk about your friend again, and I've given you your space, as it should be. That doesn't mean I can't accept that things change just because some moody child wants them to. Things have been one way since before there was your soul, so get out of your head that it will change because you believe it._

_Both were silent, with Harry completely wounded by his husband's words, and Louis completely regretting it at the expression of his favorite boy. Clearly, patience wasn't his thing, and even if he thought he was right about something, that didn't give him the right to be cruel to the curly boy._

_—I didn't mean to say that._

_—...I know. I just... I thought you'd back me up on this. I thought you were gonna encourage me to take on something as important as picking Reapers. I thought, I..._

_—No, no. Of course. —He approached, and carefully sheltered his boy in his chest, surrounding him with his warm arms while positioning his lips in his curls. —You're absolutely right. I should support you in this, you're very capable._

_—Please don't be mad at me. —His voice shook again, gluing his face to the archangel's chest. —I just... I can't. I couldn't go on. I wanted to see him, and I wanted to apologize. I still haven't... I haven't._

_—I'm not mad. Not anymore, I was wrong. —He pulled him away just a little bit to take him by the cheeks, lifting his face a little. —You're not moody, you have every right. I just... fuck, I don't want the one above to have the guts to say a word against you. I know you're capable of anything, but I don't like to be confronted. I don't like finding out that you've been called out, and I didn't do anything about it._

_—Lou, he's not going to tell me anything. And if he does, I don't care. —Clearly he did care, but he wasn't going to admit it. —Because I'll do what I know is right... and what I want._

_Harry had picked up this strange habit of starting to talk like Louis. He was like this curious kid who imitated someone else's attitude to get congratulated. Since his powers had been mastered, he began to repeat things that Louis said when his ego grew. "I do what I want, when I want, and how I want." or "Because I want and I can."_

_—That's my favorite boy. —He bowed and left one last kiss on his lips. —I just want to ask you not to keep this kind of thing from me. There are things that really can't happen, and I don't want you getting into trouble._

_—It's okay. I'm going to talk to him now, I think... you'd better come after I explain._

_Louis nodded, clearly agreeing. —I just want you to understand one thing. If he's heard you, and he doesn't want what you want, let him go, because it won't work._

_—Lou, I would never force anyone to be someone they don't want to be. —He shook his head, almost horrified by it. He would only try, and if it wasn't possible, then he would gladly take his soul to heaven, however much it hurt in his soul._

_Without further ado, he let go of the Devil and made his way out of that hallway, but stopped in the middle, turning around. —Oh, by the way. The...?_

_—They were sleeping. They probably still are._

_—Okay. I won't be long, Lou. —Again he turned, and returned to the room, ready to face his past, and try to turn it into a future._

**2003.**

That day Harry had taken it upon himself to sit down after preparing something to eat and a cup of hot chocolate for the human, who was still somewhat lost, but already able to talk after drinking a lot of water. He had explained to him exactly what had happened that night, and then followed up with how he had met Louis, and what that had to do with his death. He told him how everything went afterwards, apologized more than twenty times, and finally, when Fionn implied that everything was alright and he needed a little time to assimilate, he decided to talk.

He confessed that Louis had believed that his soul had ascended, but that it hadn't, because the penultimate Death had been too busy watching Harry that night to take him. He explained the ritual he would try to get from God to make the transition to the Reaper, if he wanted him here. He implied that it would just be his decision, whatever it was.

He thought he was going to be rejected, but was quickly accepted. Fionn even seemed excited about it, and everything Harry said to him was like music to his ears. However, Harry decided to wait more than two weeks before engaging in conversation with God, because he wanted to confirm his best friend's decision. Louis and Fionn met, and Fionn recognized him as " _the one who was dressed as the devil at the Halloween party and offered you juice._ " They crossed a few words, because Louis wasn't really very talkative, and that was it.

Fionn confessed that he always had wanted something different in his life, even if he had Liam and Harry. He had always wanted to escape, to have a chance to leave, and apparently Harry was giving him that.

When Death went to talk to God, it was epic. There was definitely no discussion, because the boss above was quite fond of the husband of his favorite archangel. He accepted right away. Fionn had taken things seriously, so it wasn't hard to perform the ritual and turn him into a Reaper. He would now be one of his servants, but his best friend forever.

So, going back to the present and why Fionn wasn't only one of the most important people in his life, but also owed him more than existence, was because of something that Louis and Harry had taken it upon themselves to do that very year, before bringing back the, now, Reaper.

For a job like Harry's, you'd expect anything. It was quite difficult to get used to the decomposing bodies, the disturbing situations he had to find himself in to take souls, but eventually he gradually got back to normal. He was no longer so shocked, just saddened by the way things ended for some people.

And just as there were jobs that really cost, there were also jobs that brought new and unexpected things.


	36. Epilogue II/II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's two more extra scenes before this book is fineshed, so enjoy!!!!

**May // 1998**

In that dusty house, with a woman's body on the floor, covered with blood from the stab wounds in her abdomen, Death stared at the man sitting quietly at a table, glancing sideways at the body as he talked on the phone about how to dispose of it. Harry had already taken care of freeing the soul from it, but there was something specific that didn't make him feel any peace, any tranquility that he usually felt after doing his job.

When the Reaper collected the woman's soul, the latter, already dead, turned his panic-stricken gaze to his murderer, then sadly to a corner of the room, and finally in supplication to the curly boy. Finally the soul ascended, and Harry slowly made his way to the corner of the room. He had learned long ago how to become invisible, so there would be no problem with the worldling in the chair.

His green eyes with a small spot of darkness opened wide when he saw inside the crib, which was very badly assembled, two babies in it, naked. Harry could still feel body temperature and wouldn't stop feeling it for a couple of years. It was cold in that room, and he was sure those creatures could get very sick if he didn't hurry.

Was it because of them that the woman had stared at him? Did she expect Harry to save those babies from a lousy, short life? Did she expect him... to kill them faster?

Well, he could do that. Death was no longer something abnormal and tragic from his point of view, so it wouldn't be anything new. He positioned himself better in front of the crib, raised his right hand and directed it toward both babies, opening his lips to speak in an indecipherable tongue.

However, he stopped.

One of the babies, the one that looked a little bigger, was staring at him. His eyes were dark, and the little hair he had was blond. He just looked at him, and he tilted his head. Unconsciously Harry did, too, with a slight frown, his hand in the air, which began to tremble.

The baby started making little sounds with his mouth, causing little bubbles of his saliva, closing his little eyes. Was he going to fall asleep? Soon, Harry understood. His presence gave him peace, to both of them.

He leaned over the crib more when he noticed that the other baby was barely moving, and touched his little body a little, making sure he was okay. He noticed the cold temperature, and his chest burned. That baby needed food, blankets, and much love from his mother, who had left her body only minutes before.

They both needed her.

Many ideas began to spring up in his mind that he could use, but he was absolutely certain that he couldn't kill them.

And he couldn't understand why.

**_Lou... come, please. I can't decide this alone._ **

He quickly stepped away from the crib, taking steps backwards while keeping his head occupied, not really knowing what to choose. One of the babies began to sob. The man struck the table with his fist, pushing the phone away from the right side of his face.

—Shut the fuck up! Or I'm going to leave you like your mother!

The baby's crying increased because of the abrupt response, and Harry watched the killer hang up the phone to stand up abruptly from the seat. The presence of the Devil emerged unexpectedly, and in the blink of an eye he was standing in front of the woman's body, blocking the way of the worldly.

Louis only had to analyse the situation to raise his hand and bend his fingers, as if forming a claw, with his palm upwards. He turned it sharply to the side, and the man's bones began to break, one by one. The screams echoed until his neck snapped and he was left motionless on the ground, lifeless.

The Devil turned to his husband, staring at him with his eyes wide open. —What can't you decide? To take this asshole's soul? I'd say bring him down, there's still plenty of room in hell.

The curly boy just watched him, and his gaze went to the cradle in the corner of the room as the crying grew louder, with hiccups. Louis frowned and starred in the same direction for a few seconds.

Both Devil and Death approached where the noise was coming from, watching the babies carefully, side by side. They instantly stopped crying, and both were surprised not to see them uncomfortable because of the unconscious evil vibe Louis carried.

—Maybe you only feel it when you know what an evil person the Devil is supposed to be. —The curly boy answered a question that none of them had said aloud, speaking almost in a whisper.

Louis watched the children for a moment before looking at Harry. They both shared a long, steady gaze, trying to convey to each other everything they were feeling at that moment.

—This is the decision you can't make without me?

Harry sighed, resting one hand on the crib and looking down, tilting his head slightly. —Their mother was murdered, and before she ascended she looked at me... strangely. I felt like she was asking me for a favor, which has never happened to me before, Lou. —He commented, looking back into the Devil's eyes and slowly shaking his head before looking back at the babies. —I thought about making them ascend with their mother, but...

—...Of course you couldn't. —He nodded slowly, trying to understand. He had never had a situation like this before, but he was trying to empathize with his husband, even if it was very difficult. He took a step closer to his boy. —Tell me what you want.

—I... I was thinking about raising them. —His voice shook, he was remarkably nervous. He bit his lower lip, even as he watched the babies. —Raise them with you. Being... parents.

There was no answer for a few long seconds, just staring at each other, as if that were all. Harry would have wanted to be in the Devil's mind at that time but, unfortunately, he couldn't read it. At least not his. He looked down, embarrassed by such a proposal.

Being a parent was a big responsibility, and he knew that more than anyone. Not only did their jobs keep them pretty busy, but they would never grow old and, clearly, the babies would. Would they have to go through the same madness as when Louis wanted to make his favorite boy immortal? Would they be able to endure it?

More importantly, would they be good at parenting? Harry was just beginning to - really - grow up, and Louis had only accepted the power of love a couple of years ago, even though he was king of the underworld. Yes, it sounded like an excuse because it had been a while, but compared to a thousand years...

Harry didn't notice Louis' look in the crib. He was looking at the smaller baby, who had moved around in his whimpering and his little eyes had opened. Their eyes were green, shiny and with long eyelashes. It instantly reminded him of the image of the curly boy, when he was just a child and he chased him around his old house.

—Okay. —He said, causing Death to look up quickly, slightly flushed. Louis looked at his husband's face, examining his astonished expression at his response. —Let's be their parents.

—You... really? You really want this? —He couldn't help but get closer, resting his hands on the Devil's chest, holding on to him. Louis' ring-filled hands went to his lower back, holding him better and nodding. —Please, I really need to know that you want this and you're not doing it for me.

—I'm doing it for you, but I want this too. —A slow smirk came over his lips. —I propose it will be entertaining. However, there are things we should talk about.

—I know, and we will. I suggest we take them home now, they need attention, I don't want them to get sick. —He bent down in the crib and carefully took the smallest baby in his arms, holding him by his body and head. He cradled him on his chest while the baby whimpered slightly. Harry looked at him sweetly. —Sh, sh. It's okay, I got you.

He rocked him gently from side to side, enthralled by the child's beautiful features. He looked up for a few seconds, and found the Devil staring at him. He couldn't decipher that look so he smiled shyly at him.

—Do you want to hold him? It would be very helpful, I don't think I can do both.

—I don't know how to.

This would be the first time Harry would teach his husband anything. Satisfied with that thought hanging over his head, he moved closer, until he was almost glued to the Devil.

—It's okay. Look, put your arms like me. —It took Louis just a few seconds before he sighed and did it. With great care, the curly boy placed the child in his arms. —Hold him against your chest, he'll stay calm. He's cold, and you're warm.

—If he's cold... we should get him some clothes. A blanket. —The archangel commented with some insecurity in his voice, staring at the child, analyzing him.

Harry just took the other baby, which looked more alert. He examined Death as if it were something from another world while he held him sweetly in his arms. The curly boy couldn't help but give him a little kiss on the forehead before looking up at the Devil,who continued to gawk at the baby in his arms.

—Let’s go.

When they arrived at the house, Harry took care of finding blankets in the closet of his room. They had taken it upon themselves to get such things as soon as they had moved into that beautiful house on the outskirts of Moscow. It was a small town, very cold. It was always snowing, and people didn't socialize as much. It was far away, and unknown. Everything Harry and Louis were looking for.

Harry knew that not because he was Death was he going to give up his interests such as listening to music, writing in his notebooks, watching cartoons, etc. Nor would he stop drinking or eating, although it wasn't really necessary and the taste had stopped being the same. It hadn't taken long for Louis to make the perfect home, he wanted his boy to feel that it was his home, but he didn't realize that he felt it too.

_ Or maybe it was because they were both there, and a home for them was wherever they were together. _

Louis was holding both children when Harry returned with two polar blankets, sitting on the living room couch next to him and helping him wrap the little ones.

—There, there... —He held one of them in his arms, slightly leaning on his husband as they both looked at the babies, who looked more at ease. The curly boy looked up, resting his cheek on the Devil's shoulder. —I need a few things.

—I'll get them for you.

—Bottles, diapers, wet wipes, baby powder, formula, clothes... —He paused as he saw the Devil's scowl slightly furrowed as he stared at him. Blushing, he shook his head. —You could stay with the babies, and I could go.

Louis shook his head. —No, I'll go. It can't be that hard.

He handed the baby to him very gently and bent down to kiss his husband's lips softly and quickly, standing up and disappearing in the blink of an eye. Harry used that time to check the body temperature of both babies, and admire their features, sighing deeply.

_ Had he made the right choice? _

**2003.**

He stood up again, descending the low step to the throne and inspecting his husband's desk, watching the contracts piled up and just two scattered on the table next to a long black pen and a small ink bottle on the side. The Devil's office was definitely something very elegant, and beautiful. Harry used to go there after having walked around, and all because it was hard for him to get away from his husband. From time to time, during the day, he needed to talk about everyday things that were going on.

And he felt that at that moment he needed him more than ever but... Why was he avoiding him? He felt a lump in his throat, deep stitches in his chest and, at times, his eyes filled with tears that he never let go. It had been a long time since he had cried, which was both good and bad for being hyper-sensitive and bearing everything. However, he felt that it could make him more independent, that he could take things more lightly.

It wasn't.

Harry knew that he shouldn't change for anyone, but he often felt that his crying was his husband's weakness. He also felt that it caused him to constantly protect him, which didn't bother Death, but he preferred to learn on his own and become independent much faster, so that Louis wouldn't feel that he depended on him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a call that caused him to raise the corners of his mouth slowly.

His babies needed him.

He extended his hand in the direction of the scythe, and it traveled immediately to be held by its owner who, seconds later, disappeared from hell.

—What's this?

—That’s papa.

The Reaper moved the paper he was holding in his hands in different directions, frowning slightly and analyzing the drawing with his eyes before looking down at his nephew.

—Which papa?

—Papa Louis, uncle! Can't you see his two red eyes? —Fionn moved the sheet a little closer to try to observe the color, and it was definitely there. However, it wasn't a specific shape.

—Viktor, you're a great artist. —He nodded, pretending to be impressed and watching the excitement in the glow of his nephew's dark eyes. —Your papa's definitely gonna like it.

—I know! —He exclaimed, excited and taking the picture again. He held it to his chest and stared at nothing for a few seconds before looking around. He felt the peace emanating from his father right there. —Daddy! —He went happily to the curly boy, who left his scythe in a corner and knelt down to receive his son's embrace.

—Hello, my love! I missed you so much! —Death exclaimed, massaging the little boy's back and kissing his hair before sniffing. He loved the smell of his babies, they calmed him down and that was what he needed most at that moment. —What's that you got there?

Viktor moved away a little, licking his lips and extending the paper to his father. —Do you think Papa Louis will like it? Uncle told me I am a great  _ arist _ .

— _ Artist,  _ yes. Wow, Vik. It's beautiful. —Internally he was thinking that he should warn his husband before seeing him. It's not that he didn't like them, Louis loved his son's drawings and that's why they had a refrigerator full of them. However, he could be a little abrupt in not understanding exactly what he was seeing. —Papa's going to love it. —He commented, returning the drawing and walking towards Fionn, sitting down by his side and sighing.

—You had a tiring day? —Harry's cheek was placed on the Reaper's shoulder, who laughed at that choice and patted Death's head. —You look exhausted.

—That's not true. I haven't changed since I was 18. —He commented, straightening up to look at his best friend, who was also watching him. —Which is good, because I've been able to change my appearance.

—I miss the curls. —He observed the hair of the formerly curly boy. Now he wore it just a little short, with a couple of waves and a parting on the side. He looked good, and he still looked really adorable. —And yes, you look tired. I know you, and I know when you look tired. Don't come accusing me of being a liar, Harry Styles.

He smiled slightly, really trying to avoid his crappy day. He shook his head, wanting the ugly thoughts to go away. —Where's Dean?

—Sleeping. —Harry sighed, slightly wrinkling his nose. —He looked exhausted. Why?

—He can't find his bunny. —His best friend nodded, dropping an  **"Oooh"** in between, as if he absolutely understood the situation after what Harry had mentioned.

His four-year-old son spent most of his time in silence, with his stuffed bunny in his arms called "Toothie". He spent more time with it than with his brother, who was notably jealous of it. The problem was that Viktor was very different from his younger brother. He painted all the time, and watched cartoons while he talked non-stop. Dean, on the other hand, barely said a word. He just liked to play tea with Toothie and sleep a lot.

—Well, I think he'll get over it. Who hasn't lost a stuffed animal or a toy?

—But he really loves his bunny very much. It's his best friend, and I don't want him to go through that. I want him to decide to stop playing with it himself. —Death complained as he watched his best friend get off the couch. His scowl deepened slightly. —Where are you going? Don't go...

—I should get back to work. You're not the only attractive supernatural being with things to do. —He joked, pulling his hair to one side. Fionn, unlike Harry, hadn't changed a bit. He squinted as he held one of his hands to the back of her head. —Hey, Harry. I've been thinking...

Silence reigned for a few seconds in the room. Death stood up again when he noticed something serious coming from his best friend's discomfort.

—Fi, what's wrong?

—It's just... I was wondering if I could go check on my dad, and Liam. —Again the silence was present, all that could be heard was the crayon of his eldest son scraping the paper, and the breaths of the three of them. —I'd be hiding, I know perfectly well there are rules.

—Fi…

—Harry, there's nothing wrong with what I'm saying. —His brow furrowed slightly, shaking his head. —I'm only going to see them, not let them see me.

—That's not the problem, but this has happened to me before. The desire to greet them, to embrace them... it's going to make you lose. Inevitably, you're going to do it, and you don't know how they're gonna react.

—Inevitably I'm going to want to go see them.

—Fi, everyone in our town thinks you're dead. —Harry spoke more calmly as he noticed the discomfort in the Reaper. He understood, he absolutely did... but there were rules to deal with if you were immortal. —Your father has seen your dead body in pieces, he's not going to believe that his son is still alive. It can go wrong, and even more so being of age.

—You can't just assume things, Hazz.

—I'm not assuming. I understand completely.

—You really don't. You do have someone to spend eternity with, I need you to understand that.

Harry tried to keep the knot in his throat.  _ What did he mean by that? _

—Yes. I have Louis, and I have you. You'll always be included. Don't you have me?

—It's not the same thing, and you know it. I want to see my father, I need to. Understand me, I want him to know that I'm okay, that I didn't have a horrible ending. Do you have any idea what he must think? What he must feel, Harry? Of course, you don't. For now.

Death's mouth opened as he understood the last part, and the Reaper paled more than he was at the realization of the stupidity he had spoken.

**"For now."** Of course, because Harry would one day lose his babies. They would grow up, become old and die. He would have to collect their bodies, and bring down their souls. Say goodbye to them forever.

A stinging sensation came over his chest as he watched his best friend's face in pain.

—Harry, I... fuck, I'm sorry.

Death watched out of the corner of his eye as his precious son watched them, green crayon in hand and platinum-blond, slightly tousled hair.

—Vik, go to your room and be quiet, your little brother is sleeping.

—Yes... —The boy stood up quickly, beginning to gather the sheets in a hasty and clumsy manner, sticking them to his chest before taking the box of crayons and walking hastily down the corridor leading to his room. His little steps could be heard, and then a door opening and closing.

—Harry, I didn’t-

—Go see them. —He was interrupted by Death, having had a little time to calm down when his son took his things to go. He shouldn't be angry, he should understand. —But remember I warned you. I hope everything's all right.

—You want me to go see your family?

—No. —He responded quickly, firmly as he stared into his eyes. —This is my family now, and it's the only family you can come see, anytime.

—I'm part of this family. —Fionn added.

—It's good that you know, Fi. —Harry smiled weakly, lifting a corner of his lips. He nodded in one direction. —Go, then tell me how it went.

—I'm really sorry, I didn't mean that stupid thing. —He quickly apologized, shaking his head. —Viktor and Dean? You? You guys are a part of me. I'd give my life again to keep them with us forever.

—And I know, that's why you don't have to worry. I'm not angry. —He took a few steps backwards, circling the sofa and walking very slowly towards the kitchen. —There's nothing to worry about, Fi. Come back later, and tell me how it went.

His best friend just stared at him, nodding in doubt before disappearing in the blink of an eye. Harry finally arrived in the kitchen and rested his hands on one of the counters. He felt his legs shake and the mark on his arm burn. He had never held back anything so big, had never endured so much pain, which he was clearly getting over little by little.

He closed his eyes tightly. How would he do that again with his children? How would he take the souls of his two babies when the time came? They had talked about this with Louis as soon as they had brought them home, and they had agreed not to let it affect them. Harry wasn't affected...

...until now.

He accidentally began to emanate more energy than normal, and it was inevitable not to cause the light in that room to intensify until the lamp bulb burst into a thousand pieces.

He swallowed, frustrated as he ran his hands through his hair. He wasn't quite in control of his powers yet, and it was humiliating because it had been years. In the beginning, when Louis kissed him the way he liked, or they both became uncontrollable in bed, the energy in Harry's body would get out of control around him, and they had to settle down. Louis found it funny, but Death found it irritating, and had wanted to change it quickly, even more so since they now had two small children in the house who could get hurt.

He quickly took a broom and shovel, starting to gather the crystals on the floor, leaving them inside the trash can. He had to calm down, he had to distract his head. He couldn't just burst... Or could he?

—Daddy? —His eldest son was drawing a huge flower on a crumpled sheet, quietly on the floor, with his crayons spread out on the carpet in front of the sofa and his pajamas on. He had taken a nap, and it was already afternoon, which meant two things. Snack and Louis' arrival.

Harry was holding his younger son, who was half asleep, with his face hidden in his father's chest and his dark hair, already a little longer, completely disheveled. Death was caressing his back, comforting him. His son looked sad, and surely that was because of Toothie. He knew it would happen, but seeing him like this broke his heart.

—Yes, my love?

Viktor left his crayons, straightening up and getting down on his knees to get a better look at his dad. —I've always had a question.

—Okay, you can tell me.

—Why do you and papa have a bed if you don't sleep?

Harry's hand stopped caressing his son's back, resuming when the latter complained, on the verge of crying. The heat had settled on his cheekbones, and the shame had turned his gaze away.

—It's just... I-I... —He laughed nervously, swallowing. What should he say? —...we like to pretend to sleep.

Viktor stared at his father for a few seconds, only blinking slowly as his brow furrowed, tilting his head. —...And why is that?

Harry's mouth remained closed, thinking about exactly what to say. Viktor was a very smart boy, he definitely wouldn't believe him. He was about to start panicking, but his husband saved him, showing up in the middle of the room.

—Papá! —Viktor stood up quickly and ran to the Devil, who bent down to take him in his arms. —I missed you so much! —His son exclaimed before kissing him on the cheek and hugging him tighter.

—Oh, yeah? —Louis was smiling, only lifting one corner of his lips as he inevitably sniffed at Viktor's hair. They both did that with their children. In some way or another, it calmed them down. —I missed you too.

—Papa, Why do you pretend to sleep with daddy? —Again, silence was present in the room, along with the remarkable discomfort of the brunette, who looked down when the Devil looked at him.

He looked at the boy again, showing confusion with his scowl. —Who told you that?

—I was asking daddy why you have a bed in your room if you don't sleep. —The boy explained as Louis put him down again, with a slow, smirk forming on his lips. —He told me you liked to pretend to sleep.

—So that's what he told you, huh? —Again, his gaze was on Death, who was wearing his remarkably flushed cheeks and stroking the hair of his youngest son, whom he was carrying in his arms. He looked back at the little boy with dark, curious eyes, nodding. —It’s true.

—And why is that?

—Mh, lately you keep asking the "why" of everything. —The archangel complained, walking up to Harry and leaving a kiss on his forehead before taking his youngest son from his arms. —You've become very curious, Viktor.

The boy shrugged as he frowned slightly, walking back to his drawings. —Teacher Levikov has asked for homework to draw our house.

—That teacher of yours is a snoop. —The Devil snorted after sniffing Dean's hair, who clung to his father's neck tightly and continued to try to sleep. —I'm gonna have to go talk to her.

Viktor's eyes widened before he looked at Harry and began to shake his head. Death laughed, shaking his head quickly.

—Papa's kidding, Vik. Why don't you keep drawing later? I'm gonna make you and your brother some snacks.

—Yes, okay. —He said, beginning to arrange his papers and crayons. —Oh! Papa, I've got a sop... sou... surprise for you. It's not ready yet, so get ready, okay?

—I'll be waiting anxiously. —The Devil said, watching her older son run to the couch while his husband got up from it.

—Daddy, can you turn on the TV, please? 

—Yes, love.

He was about to head for the television, but the Devil's body stood in front of him, close, holding his youngest son in one arm and using his free hand to grab his favorite boy's chin.

—First this. —He said before taking those soft, thick lips in a slow, brief kiss. Death's eyes closed, and a faint sigh came from his nose. This was what he was looking for, this specific calm.

The two men separated and observed each other in silence for a brief moment before continuing with their tasks. Harry turned on the television, putting cartoons on for his children, while Louis left Dean, who had already awakened, on the couch and hugged his older brother's arm, replacing his stuffed rabbit with it. 

Tom and Jerry's introductory music came on, causing Harry to quickly turn around to watch TV, stopping halfway through. He visualized himself at sixteen, snacking on the toast his mother used to make for him. It was his happiest moment, because he felt completely spoiled by his mother, and the house was lonely except for his sister in her room. It was one of the only times when his father wasn't around to cause chaos, or to change Anne's personality.

—Harry?

Again, his legs and hands began to shake. He pursed his lips tightly, making his greatest attempt to hold back tears. The television began to interfere and the tension of the light went up and down noticeably. The children looked around in confusion as Louis approached his husband, taking him by the arms.

—What's wrong? —His voice sounded low, and his eyes became a burgundy color, with his pupils dilated. —Who hurt you? Tell me their name, I'll finish them.

Harry quickly shook his head, looking nervously at the couch. His two sons watched Louis in confusion and fear. Death took a deep, slow breath, noticing the lights returning to normal and the distortion in the television ceasing. Viktor and Dean looked back at it, and the older sighed with relief as his arm was held tighter by his younger brother.

The Devil looked at the children for a few seconds before returning to look at his husband, his jaw tense, holding him by the wrist without any pressure, walking into the kitchen and closing the door behind him.

That caused all the willpower that Death accumulated to collapse in less than a second. A loud, painful sob came from his lips as the archangel wrapped his arms around him, allowing him to cry in his chest. He held him tightly, sniffed at his hair, and ran his gold-ringed fingers down his back, caressing him. The crying continued, being silenced by the mouth of the shorter one against the chest of the taller one. Louis placed his chin on his favorite boy's head, only holding him when he noticed his legs trembling.

The minutes passed. When Harry felt the power radiating from the pain in his chest and the lights dimming, he took a deep breath, calming himself. However, he didn't think to stop, because he didn't think he would ever feel this bad again.

Louis pulled him away just a little bit, taking his face in his hands and lifting him up just a little bit. He ran his thumb over his eyes, wiping away his tears, and they both stared at each other before Harry looked down, still with tears streaming down his cheeks.

The silence continued for a few seconds before Harry swallowed hard.

—I had my first personal job today. —He just said, with his broken voice. Louis understood in just a second, and immediately he drew him to his chest. He imagined who it could be.

Personal jobs were the worst. The Devil had told his husband as soon as he became the tenth and last Death. At first Harry had small jobs, like picking up a soul, or two. Then, he had to get out of the way. Only the Reapers took care of that, Death was assigned for when catastrophes happened with more souls seeking to ascend, due to the greater amount of power.

However, Harry could sense when someone with a strong connection to him was about to die.

And that's exactly what happened.

**Hours ago.**

In the blink of an eye, he was inside that room, which he hadn't been in for a long time. The last memory he had in this one was of him fighting his father, who desperately wanted to burn him with a cigarette, supposedly trying to teach him a lesson. Now everything was dark except for the light coming through the window behind the bed, in which lay Anne Cox, aged and with very little strength.

Death's eyes were wide open, with tears filling them as he examined everything about his mother, the wrinkles, the white hair, her delicate and beautiful hands on her chest, pressing lightly. Her brow was slightly furrowed, as if in pain, and her eyes were closed. He took a step, but he stepped back again. Was that...? Was that his mother? Suddenly, he didn't know if it was the best idea to forbid the Reapers from taking that job. It was his first personal job, and it definitely couldn't get any worse.

He took the death of people completely normal, because he knew that they would be fine, he knew that everything was good where they were going, and they wouldn't even remember the pain they went through before, but... facing his past again and seeing after years one of the people he loved the most... that was something that was definitely expected, but not so soon.

He sighed deeply and shakily, beginning to take slow steps to the side of the bed. Anne stopped frowning, the pain in her chest going away at the peace that came from the presence of her son, who slowly sat up in a small space in the bed on his mother's side. He watched her, swallowing every bad feeling. He had to suppress it, he had to make her feel good. He sighed deeply, and the sound of his breathing caused the woman's beautiful green eyes to slowly open.

The eyes of the two met, an almost inaudible gasp coming from between the woman's lips as her eyes began to fill with tears, glowing. One of her hands rose, trembling, to the cheek of Death, cradling it. Harry tilted his head slightly, closing his little eyes at the touch and unable to stop a tear from flowing down his cheek.

—Oh, my baby... —She spoke weakly, unable to stop herself from sobbing, giving him a smile. Harry's eyes opened, smiling sweetly amidst tears, touching his mother's hand and placing a little kiss in her palm. —...Am I dreaming?

That broke Death's heart. He sobbed with a chuckle, slowly shaking his head before wiping his cheeks with his free hand, sipping his little nose and watching with all the love in the world at the woman in the bed.

—N-No... it's me. I'm real.

Anne sighed, shaking her head but still smiling as she gently squeezed his hand. —I know you're not. If you were, you'd look older.

—A lot has happened, mommy, but... it's really me. I'm really here. —He nodded quickly, biting his lower lip as the woman continued to inspect the details of her son's face.

Her lower lip trembled, and Harry couldn't help but hide his face in the back of his mother's hand, closing his little eyes and sobbing.

—I know you can never forgive me... but I'm so sorry. —He trembled at the tension in his body.

—Oh, my love... —She tugged her son weakly, and he positioned himself only a little bit over his mother, careful not to crush her, returning the embrace the woman gave him.

They stayed like that for a few seconds, crying silently. Honestly, none of them could believe that this was happening. Anne was beginning to believe it, because she could remember the last talk she had with her son, in which she told him everything that had happened, including many supernatural things. Now, she knew this was true, but she didn't want to ask questions, she just wanted to enjoy what little time she had left.

They pulled away, and Harry wiped the tears from the woman's cheeks, who kept smiling and breathing hard.

—Listen to me... I've been looking for you for years. —Harry couldn't help but frown slightly at the heavy stitching on his chest. —I didn't believe it at first, but then I realized the years went by... and I don't blame you. Honey, I would never blame you. After everything we've put you through...

Death shook his head quickly. —No, you didn't put me through anything. All I have of you are good memories. —He whispered. His mother had made his life bearable, in spite of everything. He knew that she was very manipulated by Des, and that she was afraid of him. —Mom... And dad? Gemma?

—Your sister's moved to London, she's got a family of her own. Your father... well, shortly after you disappeared, he vanished. I don't know exactly where he went.

Harry felt like, with every word, the air was leaving him.  _ Had his mother been alone all that time? Had she not stopped looking for him? Had he been so selfish as to redo his life by assuming things that weren't while Anne Cox remained at home, all alone and wondering where her son was? _ Indeed.

He noticed his mother's breath getting stuck for a second before turning a little fast, with her hand going to her chest. Harry quickly watched her up and down. He noticed the area of her chest that was torn, he knew right away thanks to his powers that his mother had something wrong with her heart.

He sipped his nose, then stopped crying. —Do you want me to cure you? I can cure you.

Anne shook her head slowly. —No... I'm tired, love. I just want to sleep.

—Mom, I didn't come here to make you sleep. —He stroked her hair, combing it back. —How long have you been like this? W-Why haven't you called anyone?

—That doesn't matter. —The woman whispered in a sweet tone, slowly shaking her head. She stared at her son for a few seconds. —I just want to rest, I'm done.

The child swallowed hard. —...Is that what you want? —The woman nodded slowly, causing the little eyes of Death to close. He took a deep breath, gathering his strength. —Are you sure?

—I am. I finally found you, I can rest now. —She said, looking into her son's eyes when he opened them. —I love you, Harry. I love you so much.

—I love you more. —His voice came out choppy and, taking all the courage in the world to say goodbye, he bent over his mother, holding her hand firmly before leaving a slow, chaste kiss on her forehead.

The body remained still, now lifeless. Harry watched this one for a few seconds before turning around. A Reaper was standing next to his mother's soul. Anne stared at him, giving him the most beautiful smile Death had ever seen before disappearing.

The faint smile on Harry's mouth slowly faded, his frown turning. Suddenly, he was falling into reality. He had ended Anne's pain, pain which was more his fault than anything else. He had left her alone when she never did, and always tried to give him everything she could. He looked quickly at her soulless body, and took her by the shoulders.

—No, no. —He shook her slightly. —Mommy? —His hands began to tremble, and he stood quickly, taking a few steps backwards with his hands still in the same position.

His breathing was labored as the tears fell. Yes, she was gone, and everything was fine... but it hadn't been for a long time. He just couldn't bear it. Anger welled up inside him, and he let out a loud scream that broke glass and moved furniture.

He waved his cloak as he turned on his feet, looking straight ahead but extending his hand to the side, feeling the scythe reach for it. He continued to walk through the house, his face serious and his steps firm and strong. He reached the stairs, descending them with determination. He didn't even let the memories of that nightmare come to his mind, because he had work to do.

Once in the living room, he went to the telephone which was on a table in the corner of the room. Luckily there was a notebook on the side with phone numbers, and it wasn't hard to find his sister's. He took the phone tube, held it to the side of his face and marked the number in the notebook. The sound of waiting came before a sweet, familiar voice emerged.

—Hello?

—Miss Styles, I'm sorry to bother you. —He swallowed, pressing the phone tube tightly. —I'm your mother's neighbor.

—...Did something happen? —Her voice quivered.

—I'm so sorry, I found... her body. The neighborhood was worried, so we decided to call the police. It was recent.

An agitated breathing was heard on the other side, an unrecognizable voice asking questions. —N-No... Who are you?

—I’m so sorry. —And he hung up, ignoring the questions.

A deep sigh came from his lips before he called an ambulance. He sat on the couch, invisible to others when they went to look for his mother, and finally left. He didn't want to see his father, or find out if his father would magically appear. He didn't want anything.

He just wanted to go somewhere quiet, where he didn't have to see anyone... and he knew where that was.

**Present.**

—You and I both know she's fine now. All the pain is gone, all-

—It's not about that. —Death shook his head, trying to endure the sobbing as he clutched his little hands to the Devil's T-shirt. —All the pain was erased for her, but the guilt I feel inside... will remain forever. She's been so alone, and she's been looking for me for years... she probably thought I was dead. She had to endure that pain, can you imagine...? Can you imagine something like that with our children?

—No, I can't. —The Devil's jaw tightened at the image in his mind. He would never allow such a thing to happen to his children, or to his husband.

—W-When we talked about having Vik and Dean, we agreed to stay calm when their time came. We would lift their souls, and we would go see them always, but...

Louis swallowed, wrapping his favorite boy's waist better. He understood now. —But you didn't think it would be as hard as saying it until now that it happened to you with your mother. —As the tremor in Harry's body began, he drew him closer, their chests clashing. —Kid, I'd do anything for you. You know that, right?

—Y-Yes.

He lifted his chin again to leave a soft, slow kiss on his lips, seeking to heal him, to show him that he wasn't alone. If only he could do so with his powers, he wouldn't hesitate. He pulled away, and their noses brushed against one another.

—And if you want me to find a way to make our children immortal, I will. But I won't do it if it's risky for them, and I won't do it if they don't decide. We'll let them grow up, and we'll ask them. I don't want them to go away either. —He stroked his waist before slowly kissing him. —Sometimes I forget that it's not always going to be like this. I forget... I never had anything like this.

—Do you like this? I've always been worried... that it's not exactly what you expected.

—I didn't expect it, you're right about that. However... I don't dislike it. I like it. It's been a while.... —He wanted to imply something that Harry really wanted to hear, but he would never push it.

Louis was affectionate, but verbally not so much. He couldn't express what he was feeling, and Harry completely understood that. He didn't have to, he just watched him for a few seconds before he raised his face more and left a little kiss on the Devil's lips.

—Thank you for always supporting me. I love you...

—I love you.

He closed his little eyes when again his lips were taken by those of the archangel, who caressed them slowly and willingly, initiating a deep kiss. The archangel's arms were wrapped tightly around his husband, holding him close as they tilted their heads in opposite directions. Harry felt completely and utterly pampered, and though his day wouldn't get any better, it could be stable.

They moved away when they heard their eldest son's voice calling them enthusiastically. The door opened as they both jumped in, with Viktor pointing to his younger brother, who was holding his stuffed bunny in the air and wearing a little smile on his lips.

—We found Toothie! Guess where he was, daddy? He was under the couch! —Viktor exclaimed, gently pulling his blond hair out in the excitement.

—Wow! You guys are so smart. —Harry bent down and took Dean in his arms, unable to help but chuckle at the sight of his baby so happy. He kissed his cheek noisily. —I love you, Dean. We love Toothie, too.

—And me? —The dark-eyed boy asked with some hesitation, which immediately vanished when he was taken in the arms of his other father.

—Of course. So... What was my surprise?

—Oh, right! Your _ suprise _ ! —He shook his little legs, trying to get Louis to put him down, and when he finally did, he ran back into the living room. —Come on, papa!

—What do you say? Will you and Toothie help me prepare the snack? —Dean nodded slowly, still clutching his stuffed animal to his chest. Harry sat him down on the counter and began to prepare everything.

Louis went to the living room, where his son was looking through his drawings for a special one. The little boy looked at the sheet for a few seconds before sticking it to his chest and turning towards his father, getting closer. He held it out to him and the Devil didn't hesitate to take it, turning it to look at it and staying that way for a few seconds.

—What is it? —He asked, confused.

Viktor parted his lips, looking a bit indignant before sighing. —Papa! —He exclaimed, somewhat irritated. Everyone had asked him the same question! —It's you drawn! You are just like uncle! He asked the same thing.

—Oh. —He kept looking at the picture. It was a kind of black spot, with red dots in between and scribbles. —I look good.

—Papa, don't lie to me. —A little pout began to appear on his lower lip as the Devil watched him and frowned. He still didn't know how to deal with his babies crying, it made him nervous. —You didn't like it.

—Viktor, I do like it. —He approached the child and took him in his arms, feeling how he hid his face on his right shoulder. —I didn't understand it, but I do now because you explained it to me. You're a goth artist. —He carried the child to the refrigerator and took a magnet that was free, hanging the new drawing on the door of the freezer. —There.

Viktor looked away from his father's shoulder, looking at the refrigerator before looking back at the Devil. His eyes were crystallized, and the slight pouting was still present on his lower lip.

—Do you really like it, papa?

Louis combed his hair back, making an attempt to push it down a bit. —Of course. I like your art, squirt. It's very rare and it makes sense when you explain it. I'm going to get you more stuff today, so you can paint with different elements.

— _ Emelents _ ?

— _ Elements _ . I'll show you as soon as I have them. —He turned his attention to Harry as he left the kitchen, holding a medium sized tray which held two small cups of hot chocolate and vanilla cookies. —Now stop thinking nonsense and go have a snack. —He set his face, and Viktor kissed his cheek before getting out of his father's arms and running to the couch, much happier.

Death positioned the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch, and both children watched Tom and Jerry. Louis approached Harry when he noticed his lost gaze somewhere in the room, immersed in his thoughts, and hugged him from behind, providing indirect support as they watched their children.

The day had passed, the children had had dinner and gone to bed. Harry and Louis did the same after they turned out the lights. Both in bed, barely dressed and huddled together. Death had spoken to Fionn before bed, and everything was absolutely fine between them. That was what he had always needed, peace, quiet, and company.

The king of the underworld had fulfilled his promise to the king of death.

Louis made him feel full, and loved. The Devil had kept his end of the bargain, and the best part...

...The best part was that, despite some drawbacks, they both knew it would be that way for a long eternity.


	37. Extra 1. "The Other Side"

**_1986_ **

_ For a simple cashier in a supermarket in Doncaster, a rather small and rather ghostly town, where everyone knew each other and shared the same beliefs, his life was not so bad. _

_ Every morning he woke up with the damn cock as his alarm, and while his precious grandmother prepared breakfast, he played his favorite song. Sometimes he felt that it wasn't his favorite song anymore, but a part of him. He would keep singing the same verse, repeating it over and over again, and the people who knew him, like his best friend, would pray to God and all the saints out there that that torture would end. _

_ Maybe the rest didn't really understand. That song was the one Louis Tomlinson wanted to dance to, the one he wanted to hear in a situation where he was victorious and another - probably the town's moneylender, to whom he owed quite a bit of money - was left speechless.  _

_ But more importantly, it was the only song he could listen to that had nothing religious about it. Lately the teenagers were more rebellious but, at least where he lived, he was one of the few who didn't pay as much attention to religion. His grandmother agreed, believing that you don't have to live off the church to love God. Louis wasn't very sure that he loved God, and that made him terribly nervous, even at the age of twenty-two. People could be very persuasive. _

_ Lately, he wasn't afraid of God's supposed wrath, and it was all because he wasn't sure if he loved God, but he was attracted to people of his own gender, which, according to the church people in his town, wasn't good at all. He couldn't help it, he was attracted to them, and that was it. He had mentioned it to his grandmother, and she had told him that he was now an adult and that he could do whatever he wanted. _

_ Perhaps it was a punishment for her, or for Louis - he really wasn't sure - but, months later, his little grandmother got a heart condition, and was dependent on medication to continue living in good condition, and for a while longer. _

_ Louis never wanted to have anyone but that woman, someone else to hold him, to lend him money patiently. A miracle, whatever. They didn't always have enough money, he was the only one working and he had to do many other things in the supermarket to be able to buy the medicine and to be able to afford other necessary things. _

_ But lately everything was really exhausting. He needed sleep, and he couldn't fall asleep at night until the early hours of the morning. He slept four hours every day knowing that sooner or later the fatigue of work and the exhaustion of insomnia would take their toll. Who would take care of his grandmother then? He couldn't let her die. _

_ But Louis made a mistake, and a big one. _

_ That day he had woken up three hours after the time he had to go to work. He had never run so fast in his life, and although his grandmother tried to reassure him that he would be alright, he didn't listen. As soon as he opened the door to his house, with fatigue in his beautiful blue eyes and totally disheveled, he found the cause of many of his nightmares. _

_ The moneylender. _

— _ Louis! How's it going? Good? You look strange without your glasses. —He commented, feigning a friendly tone. Louis put his hand to his face, tapping it. He had forgotten his stupid glasses. That explained the blurred vision, he thought he might be blind from exhaustion. _

_ —Everything's fine. I'm on my way to work now. —He slowly closed the door, but felt a pull from the other side. Nerves settled in his stomach as his grandmother peeked out with a slight frown. —No, no. Don't go out, it's cold. _

_ She totally ignored Louis, looking up and down at the man in front of her house. —Good morning? _

_ —Good morning, ma'am. —The man nodded. —My name is Paul, nice to meet you. _

_ —Likewise. —She looked up at Louis, who had a tense jaw and was staring at the man in front of him. —How do you know him, honey? _

_ —From work. We're close. —Paul answers, smiling and putting his hands in his trouser pockets. —I didn't know you lived with your grandmother. _

_ —Yes, I've always lived with her. —He responded, shaking his head to push his bangs aside. He turned to look at his grandmother and smiled at her gently, somewhat tense. —Go inside, grandma. I'm going to work now. _

_ —Are you sure? _

_ —Yes, love. —He kissed her on the forehead. —I'll be here as soon as I can. _

_ He waited for his grandmother to enter the house to lock the door and turn around. He gave the man in front of him a nod and started walking, hoping that he would follow. He did so immediately. _

_ —You got something for me? _

_ —Uh... not this time. I'm even late for work. —He spoke, walking faster. _

_ The man clicked his tongue. —Hey, come on, man. Don't play games with me. I'm not in a very good mood. Give me at least some. _

_ Louis shook his head. —I can give you some when I get off work, but right now I have nothing, not even for a sw- _

_ He gasped in pain when he was pushed against the wall of a house, hurting his back and the crown of his head. He raised his face when Paul's hand settled on his neck, squeezing and digging his nails into his skin. _

_ —Louis, I'm really not in a good mood. I want my money. —He whispered, approaching his face. —I've been patient enough, I can't wait forever, right? —He didn't get an answer. He squeezed the brunette's neck harder. —I'll try to wait a little longer, be more patient, but don't be surprised if one day you come home and the old lady is hanging from a rope from the ceiling. —Louis looked away, unable to help but grunt. He was slapped. —Look at me when I talk to you, because I'm very serious, and if your grandmother suddenly commits suicide, there's no need to feel guilty. You'll just know who's really to blame here for getting into things he doesn't know about. _

_ Without further ado, he let go, and seemed to turn around, ready to leave. Louis' breath was cut off when he received a punch on his nose, wrinkling it and closing his eyes tightly in pain. He held one hand to his face, in pain and waited for a few seconds before opening his eyes again. _

_ He prayed for a miracle. He prayed for something to ease this miserable life. _

_ —Fuckin' hell. —He wiped the blood from under his nose, although it continued to come out, and walked with quick, furious steps to the supermarket. —Son of a bitch, son of a bitch, son of a bitch. —He whispered. _

_ He tried not to think about anything. He just kept whispering about that until he got to work, where he was cruelly scolded and humiliated for coming in those conditions. He was only allowed to go to the box, sit down and start attending to people, but as a punishment he wasn't allowed to wipe his face. _

**_Just... something. Something, whoever it is, I don't care, help me in this shitty life. God, Jesus, Satan, whoever the fuck wants to._ **

_ He stopped putting a customer's things in the bag because he looked at the lights in the supermarket, which were blinking. It wouldn't have been strange, if it wasn't that they were blinking at the same time. One light bulb would go out, and it would turn on when two of them blinked again. _

_ A stupid idea crossed his mind, but he did it. Remembering the Morse code he had learned from his deceased grandfather, his eyes were wide open to the repetitive message. _

**_I'm here. I'm here. I'm here. I'm here._ **

_ The bulbs exploded, scaring everyone in the area. A sweet, mischievous chuckle was heard, and Louis' eyes searched for that person in line. _

_ He met a beautiful boy - not so young, about eighteen, but he looked a little childish - with curls, dark, old-fashioned clothes. Underneath the long black coat he was wearing a white T-shirt, buttoned up, and a lovely little tie the same colour as the coat. He couldn't see the rest, but he seemed to be wearing nothing but shorts underneath. His smile was dazzling, with dimples on his cheeks as he looked around with excitement. _

_ —This looks like a horror movie. —He commented, almost shrieking with excitement. _

_ Louis nodded, agreeing. _

_ When he finished attending to the woman, it was the child's turn. _

_ —Good morning. —Louis murmured politely, though he didn't feel much like wishing people good morning, but the boy was adorable... though strange. He raised both eyebrows when the latter left a large amount of candy he planned to buy. —Wow… _

_ —I really, really like candy. —He excused himself, shrugging his shoulders as he watched Louis' hands check every candy. —You seem to do everything so fluid, and even without light. Have you been working here long? _

_ —Nearly four years. —He responded dryly, nodding slowly. He felt bad about the animated way the curly boy was talking to him, so he decided to return the question. —You? Have you lived here long? I've never seen you. _

_ The boy slowly shook his head, staring into his eyes. —I just got here. _

_ Louis looked back at him for a few seconds before slowly nodding, finishing off the last few treats before taking a small bag, putting everything in there. He waited for the money after saying it, as he usually did, but was surprised to notice the curly boy turning around, leaving the customer's side and coming to the cashier's side, where the brunette was. _

_ —What- _

_ His eyes opened wide when he was grabbed by the cheeks and bent down at the height of the child. He felt cold, wet lips on his own, caressing his lower lip slowly and gently. He wasn't even breathing, he was really surprised, so much so that he could barely move. A pleasant tingling settled in his stomach, but it was short-lived as the curly boy moved away, looking into his eyes with a small, sly grin. _

_ —See you, Lou. _

_ Just like that, he took the bag and left. Louis blinked quickly, not being able to follow him because he was no longer there. He looked around, noticing some people looking at him with some fright at the scene minutes ago. He took a deep breath and settled back in his seat, waiting for more customers while he wondered who that boy was, why he had kissed him and how he knew his name. _

_ ———————————————————————————————————————————— _

_ When the end of the day came, after spending the whole time cleaning, scrubbing walls, floor, and changing light bulbs, he met with his boss, waiting for his pay. He frowned as he received much less than the minimum expected. _

_ —Just this for being three hours late? —The old man observed him somewhat surprised by Louis' complaint. —It's twelve o'clock at night. My shift ended at 8:30. _

_ —You can leave at any time you want, after all you've done today you can even go look for a new job. _

_ Already fed up, he stood firm and angry. He wasn't going to break. _

_ —What exactly did I do today? _

_ —In addition to your tardiness, arriving beaten up and walking around in a bitchy mood all day, you dared to... to kiss a man in front of the whole supermarket. —He commented, disgusted and angry, looking down. He couldn't even look at him. —I'm not against it, but I find it disgusting, and everyone saw you. _

_ —Well, that's clearly being against it. And I didn't kiss him, he kissed me. The fact that I got hit is not my fault, and neither is falling asleep. I've been working my ass off these days, receiving misery. _

_ —Misery?! You call that misery? —He pointed to the money in Louis' hand, who formed a fist, crumpling it up. —It's the least you deserve, punk! I'm gonna let you come back tomorrow, just because I'm a good person! _

_ —Fuck off and don't come back, as far as I'm concerned. —That was it, he wasn't going to let them take him for a fool. He turned and walked to the door. —You're not a good person. Since you go to church so much, tell God and the Virgin Mary that you had me dragged down the aisle to clean the dirt from your shoes, for little money. _

_ —You son of a fucking b- _

_ He closed the door just in time, putting the money in his pocket as he walked at a fast pace, furious through the supermarket, towards the exit. _

_ The cold invaded him. He cursed himself for having forgotten his coat inside. Anyway, he had absolutely nothing on him. He could sell some books from his bookshelf, and some furniture. Something, he had to think of something. _

_ —Aren't you cold? —He jumped at the sound of the voice beside him. Surprised to see the same boy who had kissed him in the supermarket, he stopped. He turned, also stopping. Louis could see that below his shorts he was wearing knee-length black socks and somewhat elegant shoes with a buckle. _

_ His brow furrowed at the sight of his own coat in one of the curly boy's hands. _

_ —What-? How did you take that? —He took his coat roughly, putting it on. _

_ The child's brow furrowed, showing confusion as he tilted his head slightly. _

_ —I waited for you to come out. _

_ —Why? I don't know you. I don't even know your name. _

_ —I don't have a name. —He answered. The sweetness was fading, he was becoming more serious, he spoke a little lower and the green in his eyes darkened. —I'm here because you called me. _

_ Louis' heart beat faster, not understanding what exactly was going on, assuming something but... no. It couldn't be. It just couldn't. _

_ —I don't understand. _

_ —It's not too hard to understand. —He responded with some arrogance, turning around and continuing to walk along the road, slowly. He turned a considerable distance away, staring at the brunette, as if waiting. _

_ He watched him for a few seconds before he started walking again. Once he reached the child's side, they walked in silence. The brunette was really tense, was it a dream? A nightmare? _

_ —I thought I heard you were ready to get a miracle from whoever it is. Why are you so scared now? —He sighed, slowly shaking his head. —You don't really know what you're asking for until you get it, do you? —He watched him out of the corner of his eye. —Well, let me tell you something. —He stopped, with Louis next to him. —Unfortunately for you, I'm everything you never wanted, but I can help you more than an angel. _

_ —You aren't an angel? _

_ The curly boy raised his eyebrows, tilting his head a little. —Do I look like one? _

**_Yes_ ** _. _

_ —No. —He cleared his throat, and continued to walk along with the boy. He remained silent, thinking about exactly what he could say. —So... who are you? _

_ A giggle came from the thick, reddish lips of the child. —If I tell you, you might get scared. —He hummed quietly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lollipop he had bought at Louis' supermarket, putting it in his mouth after removing the wrapper. He savored loudly, taking it out of his mouth and holding it in his little hand. —Um, well. I'm... kind of a servant of the king of the underworld. Is that okay? Is that a nice way of putting it? _

_ Louis put his hands in his pocket. He couldn't let the... the demon notice the tremors in these. He was trying to stay calm, but he felt that sanity was slipping from his hands, that nothing was real. _

_ He simply remained silent, thoughtful and on edge. He stepped forward, listening to the whining of the curly boy. He climbed the short steps to the entrance of his home and knocked a few times, drawing insults from his grandmother on the other side until she opened the door. _

_ —Lou? What happened to your face? —She asked, worried. Louis immediately embraced her, letting out a forced chuckle, trying to make her concern a little lighter. —Why are you laughing? What's wrong? _

_ —Sh, sh. Grandma, it's okay. —He stepped away a little, and the old lady grabbed him by the face. —I'm fine. On my way to work I hit myself, I was kind of asleep. _

_ —Did you have breakfast? Louis, did you eat anything? —She was talking really fast. _

_ The brunette took her hands, slowly shaking his head. —Yes —He lied. —Please, don't worry. Everything's fine. You don't have to worry, grandma. _

_ —You need to rest, okay? I'm gonna make you something delicious to eat. —She pointed her index finger at her grandson when he was about to speak. —And I don't give a shit if you've eaten already. —Louis rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh at his grandmother's vocabulary. She always spoke that way, but she emanated tenderness at his sweet voice. —You go to bed, and you let your grandmother make you some yummy stuff. _

_ —Did you take the pill, gran? _

_ —It's the last one. —She commented, trying to sound disinterested as she turned and walked to the kitchen. —But I already took it. I can try to get some tomorrow. _

_ Louis followed her into the small kitchen, watching her put the kettle on while he heard her comment that she would make him some soup. _

_ —Gran, we'll find something, don't worry. _

_ —Honey, you don't have to worry. It's my health. I'll take care of this, okay? Now go to bed, don't make me repeat myself. _

_ He sighed deeply before turning around and walking into the room, swallowing hard as he closed the door to his room. He turned on the light and turned around, jumping and grumbling as he found the curly-haired boy on a rocking chair in the corner of the room, swinging. That was his grandmother's, but he used it on sleepless nights where, strangely enough, swinging worked. _

_ —Is that your granny? She's so cute. —He pushed a heavy box with one of his feet. _

_ Louis looked down, opening his eyes wide when he noticed that the medium-sized white box was filled with small pharmacy boxes recognizable to him. Those were the tablets of the medication his grandmother needed. _

_ —Is...? Is that...? _

_ —Yeah! I know! —He exclaimed, smiling as he stood. Straight and formal, he bowed to Louis. —From now on, I will be your faithful servant. _

_ —My servant? —The demon nodded, straightening up and staring at the brunette who was slowly frowning. —In exchange for what? _

_ The curly boy's smile became lighter. —Isn't it obvious? —He raised one of his eyebrows a little bit, and they stared at each other. —I want your soul. _

_ Louis immediately paled, blinking rapidly. —My soul? When? How? _

_ —When you die, of course. —The boy answered, stepping forward. —I'll be totally loyal to you, protect you and give you what you want. However, when the day of your death comes, I will take your soul, and I will even be with you in the infinite darkness. _

_ —And what if I refuse? _

_ The demon tilted his head slightly, still with a cool smile on his lips. It was only when he did that, or kept himself in earnest, that he didn't look sweet at all. It was as if all angelic traces vanished at the speed of light. _

_ —I'll go, and everything I've brought goes with me. _

_ That's when Louis realized he had to accept. For his grandmother, for his job, for his life... _

_ —It's okay. I accept. —He admired the smile on the demon's lips as it expanded, revealing lovely little dimples. —Would you tell me your name? _

_ —I don't have one. —He sat on Louis' bed in a jump and, as he bounced he couldn't help but take another jump. —Can I have one? After all, you are my master. _

_ He felt his member jerk at the last bit, and he looked around the room. Was that really making him hard? He turned his thoughts to the thing mentioned by the demon, and his gaze shifted to the corner shelf, which was filled with books. _

_ —Harry. —He mentioned in a whisper, looking at the curly boy, who stopped jumping and looked at him seriously, blinking slowly. —Your name will be Harry. _

_ The demon smiled. —Okay. _

_ He disappeared in the blink of an eye when Louis' grandmother walked into the room. She left his pumpkin soup on the bedside table, and the brunette took the opportunity to surprise her with her medicine. He lied to her, telling her that he had been promoted for his good behavior, and made her really happy until she left the room because it was time to go to sleep. _

_ And, among so many thoughts, he managed to fall asleep. He had never fallen asleep so early, but he had rid himself of many worries that had previously invaded his mind. Now the only worry he had was that of a demonic presence stalking his soul, taking ten steps when he took one. Always ahead, always stealthy and obedient. _

_ But he didn't mind going to hell. _

_ Harry had now become a part of him, and the best part? _

_ He didn't dislike it one bit. _

**2004 // Original World**

Death closed the book abruptly, gaping and releasing a silent gasp.

—That... —He slowly shook his head and opened the book again, looking through the pages. Was there no continuation? Was he really going to remain with the intrigue for the rest of his life?

—What are you doing?

He gasped in fright, dropping the book on the floor and turning in a hurry. He met the Devil himself, who was also his husband and the supernatural creature he loved most in the universe.

And in others, probably.

After a long day of work as Death, he had gone to hell to look for his husband. He was tired, needed support and pampering. The king of the underworld was busy, and Harry decided to wait. He had been distracted by snooping around some contracts on the desk by the fire, but finally decided to browse through all those books on the huge, endless wall.

He had climbed the long ladder, and he had taken about six books from the section in which Louis had once indicated that they were based on alternate worlds, parallel universes, etc. There could be anything, but he never thought that he would find approximately two books in which there were parallel lives of the Devil himself. It was a bit confusing, because this was the king of the underworld in all worlds. However, he had stories.

—I-I... I was... Where were you?

The Devil frowned a little. —Working, obviously.

—I just... I missed you. —In his husband's eyes he noticed that sign that made him come closer and take refuge in his chest, being wrapped by warm and strong arms. —I had an exhausting day.

—You always do. —He felt a kiss on his hair and strokes from the ring-filled fingers of his husband caressing his back. —What were you reading? —Harry pulled his face away from Louis' chest, lifting it up and closing his little eyes when he received a soft, slow kiss on his lips. —Huh? Were you snooping around my books, kid?

—The section on alternative universes. Apparently, you were a simple worldling, and you had a demon. Guess what his na-?

—Harry. Yes, it was you. —He interrupted, slowly nodding and tightening his grip on his husband's body so that he wouldn't move away. —Does that surprise you?

—Yes, and I don't understand. Not that you were the only Devil? How can you have a life if you're like this in all of them?

—My story is not like others. The book where it says that, rather, is something that could have happened. —He held him closer, making him stand on his tiptoes. —Naughty boy, sniffing around the Devil's office.

That last comment caused Death's cheeks to begin to burn, causing him to lower his gaze, tilting his face a little as his little fingers caressed the neck of the king of the underworld.

—Sorry, I was bored. —He answered, and looked up again, closing his eyes when he received another slow, deep but slow kiss.

—Did you go see the kids?

—Yes, they were sleeping. Fionn will leave as soon as we get there, but I wanted to come and get you.

—Mh-hm. —He took the lower lip of his favorite boy, sucking before licking, ending with a kiss which took the breath away from the younger boy. —Well, then let's go.

All it took was for Harry to put the book away, turn around and hold his husband's hand. In the blink of an eye, both had left that office, resuming their daily lives without any problem, and with pleasure.


	38. Extra 2.

" _ Dear Parents: _

_ We are pleased to invite you to the little essay that will be presented by each 1st and 3rd grade student for the Father's Day celebration. _

_ Day: Friday 16th // Time: 11 a.m" _

Death himself, also called Harry Styles, looked up, curious to see the look of his husband, who was the Devil himself.

He looked neutral -  _ as usual _ \- without much to say about what he had previously heard coming out of his favorite boy's mouth.

—What are you trying to explain?

—Louis... —Harry complained, closing the little notebook from the institute his older son attended and leaving it on the nightstand in the room of both supernatural beings. —...we have to go.

—No.

The Devil refused, he really did. There was nothing special about that day! It was a day like any other, but school made it special and caused the children who attended it to feel bad because of the absence of "something so important". He even found it offensive on the part of the worldly to commemorate such a thing.

Adding it all up, Louis didn't think he could stand so much human stupidity. He didn't think they were all like that, but the few who had ever come along - _ except for Harry _ \- had really disgusting thoughts, and believed themselves to be more than the others. He didn't want to be so close, and he was going to raise his children in the right way, even if he barely knew how.

However, he had to endure the face of indignation coming from his husband when he finished confirming his absence from the event.

—I can't believe you're being like this. —He threw a tantrum, as he had done since he was sixteen years old, although he used to be quieter and more submissive. Louis liked the change his boy had had, in every sense of the word because, well... he looked really handsome all the bloody time. —Viktor's gonna feel really bad if we don't go. I'm sure he's written an essay and everything. We've never been to an event like this. —He continued, sitting up in bed slowly and turning away from the Devil's warm body.

None of them were sleeping, of course. Harry used to do it a little, he still didn't get over it, but it was because of the boredom when Louis wasn't around at night, even though they were few. It also happened to him in the afternoon, when his children were napping and the exhausting work as king of souls wasn't calling him.

He was with his hair disheveled, wearing pajamas he had bought for the winter -  _ even if he no longer felt the cold temperatures as he used to _ \- covered with the blankets and his lips forming a little pout. Louis, on the other hand, had nothing but underwear, which he rarely wore. If it were up to him, he would walk around the room naked, but Harry thought he should be wearing underwear now that the children were and could enter their parents' room at any time. They -  _ many times _ \- forgot to put the lock on.

—Harry, Viktor hates doing homework. —He tried to calm his husband, bringing his ring-filled hand to his arm and gently pulling him closer. —I bet he hasn't even done a paragraph, mainly because he still has trouble writing on the line.

—You're cruel. —Now Harry looked annoyed, with a slight frown. It was rarely that Death didn't understand that, despite being the Devil, Louis didn't say that in an evil way. He put his arm away and went back to bed, turning his back on his husband. —Vamos a dormir.

The devil's brow furrowed. —We don't sleep.

—Then let's pretend to sleep, because I don't want to talk.

Louis moved immediately, approaching Harry's body with careful movements. He gently ran a hand under his shirt, gently caressing his waist as he stuck his lips to the back of the boy's neck.

—You know I'm not serious. —He whispered to him, leaving soft kisses. —I mean, yes, but not the way you think. Viktor can't write on a line yet, but I wasn't criticizing. It was just a comment without any expression.

There was a short silence.—I know, but I don't like it that much. Viktor tries so hard. —He says, in a much softer tone but still slightly distant. — I know how you say it, but I've seen him get frustrated, and it hurts.

—I understand. —He left slow, short kisses on the back of his favorite boy's neck. —It won't happen again. —Seconds later, his husband had turned around at least a little so as to have his face in front of the king of the underworld. The latter didn't miss the opportunity; he took the thick, reddish lower lip, sucking it in slightly before leaving a bite that made him sigh. He immediately took him by the waist, twisting him around to stick him to his body and entangle his legs.

—I love you. —Louis looked for his mouth more before that little whisper, leaning a little over Death's body as he caressed his thigh with his free hand.

Their warm tongues met after a few long hours, exploring as if they had never done so before.

The noise of the door startled the younger boy, and he tried to get away from the Devil's grip, but he looked as if nothing was happening. He simply turned his head a little, licking his lips loosely and watching his six-year-old son rush in with both eyebrows raised.

—Papa and daddy, you're going to listen to me! —He exclaimed, and though he looked annoyed, his tone was most gentle and sweet. Harry and Louis sat down almost at the same time, looking at Viktor Cox in awe. Death and Devil had decided that they would use Harry's mother's name for their children, because  _ Styles _ was a great offense. —I don't want to do the stupid essay! —He exclaimed, stopping his walk in the middle of the bed and lifting a crumpled sheet of paper that said only the child's name, written too big and off the line.

—Viktor, what did you just say? —Death's green eyes widened when he heard the insult of his little boy, who also widened his eyes when he heard his father's threatening tone. —I don't want to hear you say a word like that again, or you'll be grounded for life. Do you hear me?

The child seemed to be about to burst into tears as Harry's words passed. Louis sighed deeply, rolling his eyes before patting the mattress in front of himself. Viktor quickly climbed onto it and curled up in the arms of the king of the underworld, who was caressing his back.

—When daddy was little, he didn't say a single bad word. —The infernal being explained, moving the child away a little to watch him, noting out of the corner of his eye the look of his husband on him. —That's why he doesn't like you to swear. —He finished, nodding slowly.

—It's not that, it's everything. You're six years old, Vik. —Now the green-eyed brunette felt a little guilty. He extended his arms to his little boy, who immediately curled up against his chest. —It's not nice to say things like that.

—Older people say it. —The child excused himself, looking up and receiving a kiss on his forehead from the person holding him.

—Don't copy what older people say, until you're older. —Louis suggested, watching out of the corner of his eye as Harry tried to cover his lips in his son's blonde hair so as not to show his smile. —Don't copy what anyone does.

—Does that mean I can't copy my essay from someone else? —Harry immediately shook his head, staring back at his son, who was lavishing tenderness without even trying. —Really? Papa can't tran... tran...? —He frowned slightly in frustration. —Can't papa travel to my friend's house and steal his essay?

—Papa doesn't do those bad things, Vik. —Death lied, wrinkling his nose when his husband raised one of his eyebrows, showing disbelief at what he had said. —Besides, you don't think anyone will notice? You have to write about your parents.

The boy puffed, widening his eyes a little more and raising his little hands in frustration. —So what do I say?

—That you love us. —Harry answered.

—That we're awesome. —Louis replied at the same time.

The couple stared into each other's eyes for a few seconds before looking back at the child in the room, who pouted with his lips in thought. Louis believed that his son had adopted that expression because of his husband. He couldn't help but smile at it, hiding it with a lick of his lips before coming a little closer and kissing Viktor's forehead.

—Well, now go to sleep and think about what you're going to write in your essay.

A little smile began to form on the six-year-old. —It'll be a surprise, I'll ask my teacher to help me.

—Surprise? For us? —Harry couldn't help but kiss his eldest son's forehead when he nodded, slightly flushed. He held him to his chest, sighing deeply. —Vik, I love you with all my heart. —He kissed his cheek noisily. —Come on, let's tuck you in.

—I'll take him. —The Devil offered, extending his arms to his son, who immediately clung to his father's warm body. He rested his little head on the shoulder of the king of the underworld, as if he weren't. —I'll be back in a few minutes.

—Okay. —Death nodded and watched his husband walk out of the room with his son in his arms, throwing a couple of kisses at the latter, who returned them with a shy smile.

He sighed, looking around as if he were lost. Despite all that had happened, he loved the life he led. He loved his home, he loved his children and he loved Louis. He loved his family and he loved having the power to protect them from anything.

He settled down a bit in bed before covering himself with the blankets. He wasn't cold, but he liked to be tucked in, and waiting for his husband's arms. Just as he was about to fall asleep from boredom, a presence burst into his moment of peace. He blinked quickly, and his brow furrowed as he noticed his best friend, Fionn Whitehead, at the end of the bed.

—Fi? —He sat down almost immediately when he noticed the panic on the man's thin face. —What's going on? What is it?

—Don't you feel it? —Harry was forced out of bed when he felt the trembling voice of the person with whom he had shared great moments. He just watched him, lost and desperate, hoping to feel something other than anguish and fright. —Something will happen. Someone is going to die here.

—What? —His voice came out a little louder than expected. It was almost immediately that he approached the taller boy. —Tell me this is a joke and you've got the wrong house.

—Harry, I don't know what's going on, but I was asked to come here because someone was going to die in this house. Where are the children?

—They're with Louis. No, what? Fi... —He held one hand to his forehead, squinting slightly at the sudden stress he was feeling. His whole body was shaking, suddenly it felt as if thousands of demons were passing over him. —...you're confused. Someone gave you the wrong address.

—Harry, I... —He licked his lips as he ran his palms down his pants, wiping away the sweat from his nervousness. —...is not the wrong direction. Don't you feel it?

—I don't feel anything! I'm perfectly fine, so you must be wrong, Fionn!

The door to the room opened at once, and a red-eyed, tense-jawed Louis walked into the room, watching both supernatural beings with a neutral but alarming expression.

—What's going on? —He approached his husband when he noticed the nervousness coming out in waves that were only visible to his eyes. —Harry.

—Louis, I've been informed that someone will die here. —Unlike when he had told Harry, he now looked clearly confused, with a scowl as he looked back at the king of the underworld. —Vik and Dean?

—Viktor just went to bed, and Dean's asleep.

—Did you check that he's just asleep?

Louis' jaw tightened even more when he felt his husband's shaky grip on the clothes he was wearing. His pupils dilated a little more and the threatening look caused the Reaper to look down.

—He's asleep, Fionn. —Louis responded as calmly as possible. He had heard his youngest son's quiet breathing.

—I want to go see. —Death wanted to get ahead of him, run into the room, but Louis wouldn't let him. He grabbed him immediately by the waist with one arm. —I just want to go check that-

—Harry, I just got back from there. You think I wouldn't feel it? You think you wouldn't feel if your kids were in danger? —He held both hands with fingers full of gold rings to the cheeks of the short boy, staring at him. —You have to calm down, or they're gonna feel your panic. Trust me, kid.

Death took a deep breath to calm his aura. His husband's touch and gentle tone of voice brought him back down to earth. He took his hands into the hands of the king of the underworld, and watched him with eyes full of worry and ill omen.

—I don't feel anything, Lou.

—I know, neither do I. —He immediately held him against his body, and left a kiss on his forehead before looking at Fionn, who looked clearly uncomfortable. —You've got the wrong house.

—Believe me, I wouldn't have come here if I hadn't checked. —The Reaper slowly denied, biting his lower lip before looking at the couple. —Do you mind if I stand guard in the kids' room?

—Of course not. —Harry replied, grateful. He wouldn't sleep all night, and though it wasn't his own presence, he was relieved that it was Fionn who was watching over his babies' dreams. He couldn't do it, because he clearly wasn't able to control his emotions. That could lead to horrific nightmares for the infants. —I’m sorry, Fi.

—It's okay, Hazz. You know that. —His best friend smiled slightly at him before heading out of the room, closing the door on his way out.

Harry and Louis looked at each other almost at the same time, as if communicating with their eyes.

—Look at me and pay attention to what I'm about to tell you. —The Devil came a little closer to his husband, still holding him. —I'll never... ever in my eternity let anything happen to them. —A knot settled in the throat of the smaller boy, who only nodded in agreement. He could feel the calm slowly enveloping him. —Whatever it is, Harry, I'm protecting them. Understood?

—Understood. —His husband repeated.

He lifted his face a little higher, and the two shared a soft kiss on the lips. When they returned to bed, under the covers, Harry was wrapped in the comforting arms of the Devil, but despite all the calm he was receiving, he didn't sleep a wink, waiting to feel something.

—Oh, my God. —Harry covered his face, sighing with fatigue and relief at the same time. He heard a grunt behind his back and slowly shook his head. —Hell. —He corrected.

—Much better. —Louis praised.

—Fuck. Sorry, bro. —Fionn apologized, looking too guiltily at his best friend, who continued shaking his head.

—No, no. It's okay, it happens to everyone. —Death moved his hands away from his face and crossed his arms, looking pretty damn good in his work clothes and the light breeze from Russia making his short hair back. —I mean... —He tilted his head, staring at the inert body of the furry cat in his backyard. —...there was definitely a death.

—Yes...

—Oh, fuck. —The Devil mumbled, standing beside his husband. —Don't compliment him, fire him. You're his boss, and he sucks at being a Reaper. 

His husband's servant frowned. —Yeah, well; the Devil's not supposed to fall in love, and look at you. You're married with children. —He was silent for a few seconds under Louis' neutral gaze. He quickly turned his gaze to his best friend, blushing terribly. —I'm leaving.

—Okay. —As soon as Death finished saying that, Fionn disappeared at the speed of a blink, without even leaving a trace of having been there once. Harry immediately turned to Louis, who was watching him just as he had watched the Reaper. —Don't look at me like that.

—You trust him too much. —He started. The less experienced supernatural being of the two made a move with one of his hands and soon the cat was breathing again, mewing inconsolably. —You always have.

—And I always will. He's my best friend, Lou. 

—You had a shitty week, thinking our kids were gonna die, and it turned out to be a cat. —He frowned a little, feeling annoyed that Harry wasn't even paying attention to him. He was completely taken by the cat, which was crying after he returned. Death quickly approached the cat, squatting down and beginning to stroke its hairy back. —I'm talking to you.

—I'm listening. —He bit his lower lip with concern, trying to heal the animal, succeeding almost immediately. He understood his husband. He was the only one who had been comforting him after all the scares he had gotten every time his children did something that could end tragically when he wasn't watching them, which was strange. He hadn't even slept, he was quite sure he wouldn't do it again. —But what would you suggest? That he didn't tell me anything? What if it really was Vik or Dean and we didn't know?

—Don't defend him. I'm not saying kill him, but you can't let things like that go. 

Death stood with the cat in his arms, which looked really comfortable, and turned to his husband for the last thing he had said. —Have I ever not let things go? I thought it wasn't a surprise anymore. —The devil shook his head slowly, in disagreement. —I'm gonna tell him, Lou. I promise.

—...Okay.

—Look on the bright side. We have a new pet! —He rocked the white-coated cat, fat enough to complain about the movement. —What can we call it? I never had a pet.

Louis took his hand to his eyebrow, rubbing as he sighed deeply. His husband's good mood was contagious, but he had had a terrible week too, and he didn't want to let it go. He couldn't.

—I'm gonna kill Fionn. —He walked towards the house, wanting to find peace, as he used to do when he was completely alone and the only thing that cleared his head was the tranquillity of his office in hell.

—Don't forget that today is Vik's essay! I love you, Louis! —And although he didn't turn or respond, a slow smile grew on his lips.

Russia wasn't a very liberal country, but Harry had chosen it when things were very different. The world hadn't changed at all, but there were more choices where to be when two men fell in love, and it definitely wasn't that country.

The looks of the parents of other students at Death and Devil were a mixture of disgust and surprise. The school was completely packed, with children running around. Harry was holding Dean, and Louis had one of his hands on the shoulder of his six-year-old son, who was standing in front of them, looking lost as he looked around and clutching his yellow backpack to his chest.

A woman with blond hair and a bright smile began to speak. Harry frowned; he still couldn't get used to understanding all languages as if he had always studied them.

— _ Children who have prepared their essays can follow me! _

Harry immediately looked at his son. —Go, Vik. —He encouraged him. He looked frightened as he walked slowly towards the students who crowded in front of the woman.

—He's scared. —Louis commented, staring at the boy until he got lost around the corner and walked into a room. He turned almost immediately and took his youngest son, who immediately complained, from his husband's arms. —You've been carrying him all the way.

—He's grumpy, doesn't want to get off.

Louis lowered the boy to the ground, who clung to his leg as he continued to complain. They both knew he hadn't slept well, and he wanted his usual nap, uninterrupted. The people around him watched the scene, and as Harry took his son in his arms again, the Devil threatened the Russian families around him with his eyes.

—Louis... —The shorter of the two had noticed that as he rocked Dean, who was trying to sleep on his shoulder.

The king of the underworld only looked at him out of the corner of his eye, taking him by the hand and guiding him when his eldest son's teacher indicated that they should go into the room. It was spacious enough for all the parents to enter, but Louis walked with his husband to the back.

—Finally, you arrive. —Harry turned immediately when he heard the voice of his best friend, who was standing next to him. He looked at his youngest nephew and stretched out his arms. —Give him to me. —Death immediately did, and the boy didn't even complain. He loved his uncle. —Everything okay?

Harry nodded, glancing sideways at his husband and noticing his gaze fixed on him. He sighed. He knew that Louis wasn't going to stop insisting on this, and in part he understood. Surely he too had had doubts about their safety, surely he too had been afraid.

He took his gaze to Fionn. —You're a klutz, Fi. —He simply said, surprising the last named. The devil whistled. —You almost gave me a heart attack, and I lost the habit of sleeping. Please, if you're not sure of something, don't say it. —He asked nicely despite what he was saying, blinking softly.

No one could get mad at him for talking so softly and looking like that.

—I'm sorry, Harry. It won't happen again, I promise. —He looked at Louis. —And I’m sorry, Louis.

—Don't apologize to me. Next time you do it, I'll rip your balls off. —The Devil didn't even turn around to see him, he had his eyes narrowed, watching his oldest son, who was among all his other classmates.

Fionn raised both eyebrows, surprised as he watched Harry out of the corner of his eye, who shook his head. He definitely didn't want to go through something like that again.

The event began almost immediately. The only recognizable teacher for Harry had been explaining the purpose of the essays, and she had also commented that the first graders had made a drawing mural for each parent. This one they could see later.

—Great, another drawing for the fridge.

Harry held both arms to one of Louis', gawking. He had been endeared by that comment from the Devil, and didn't want to tell him that he couldn't take his son's drawings off the mural. Both were paying attention to what the woman had indicated, until finally the time came for the students to read their essays. The third graders started, which had been quite fast because apparently almost no one in the room had done more than draw the mural. Finally, it was time for the first graders, and Death was looking forward to his son's essay.

There were children who didn't know how to read, and the kind Russian teacher helped them. Finally, after minutes that had seemed endless, Viktor Cox's moment had arrived. With a shy smile and few teeth, terribly blushing, he stood in front of the other pupils, paper in hand.

— _ Do you need help, Viktor?  _ —The boy nodded and tended his paper to the woman, who took it, silently inspecting the sheet.

Harry shook Louis' arm a little, somewhat nervously as he stood on his toes to get a better look at the other parents. —What do you think it says? —He whispered to his husband.

—He said it was a surprise. —Louis shrugged his shoulders, feigning disinterest. They both knew better than that.

Death bit his lower lip, waiting for his child's teacher to start reading the first sentence.

— **"I love my dads, they're awesome."** —Harry couldn't help but smile broadly, with little dimples on his cheeks. Louis puffed up his chest with pride, unable to help smiling a little, too. — **"They take good care of me, and my little brother, Dean."** —She read slowly, following the reading. The woman frowned slightly. — **"I'm never afraid, because my dads have magical powers."**

The countenance of the two supernatural beings changed immediately. Harry opened his eyes wide, freezing in place and putting a little pressure on the Devil's arm.

—Oh, fuck. —The latter cursed.

— **"They don't have cars, because they can make us travel with their powers.** —The woman followed while Viktor nodded, agreeing with his own writing. — **One works punishing bad guys, and the other one... kills them.** —The woman looked up, looking for the child's parents among the people. No one said a word, they just kept looking straight ahead. — **But I love them all the same, and even more so now that they gave my little brother and me a cat that had died in our yard."** Honey, —The woman looked at the child, who continued with a little smile on his lips. —Where are your parents?

Viktor looked through the crowd of people, erasing a little of his smile at the confusion of the people and the murmurs that interrupted the reading. Louis let go of Harry as he saw the expression change on his eldest son's face.

—Stay here. —He ordered his husband gently, who nodded. Of course he would agree, he was a terrible liar.

The Devil advanced among the people without even having to ask permission. Everyone in that room could feel the dark aura he emanated, and they preferred to keep away, even more so after seeing him holding another man's hand. Once Louis arrived in front of Viktor, he placed one of his ringed hands on Viktor's shoulder, watching the kind but horrified teacher.

— _ I'm the dad who punishes bad guys. _ —He simply said, smirking and looking superior to the adult in front of him. — _ I'm a cop. _ —He lied calmly.

— _ And your... partner?  _ —The woman raised both eyebrows, being intimidated almost immediately by the fixed gaze coming from the father of her student. — _ The one who kills them? _

— _ He works in a funeral home. My son has a great imagination. _ —He lied again. Harry envied that; Lately lies were something he needed in his daily life as Death, husband of the Devil himself and father of two children. — _ And he's not my partner, he's my husband. _

The whole room was silent for seconds that felt like hours. You could feel the discomfort along with the bad omen and the nervousness of Death. Clearly the mundanes wouldn't notice as one who knew but, still, there it was.

— _ Anything else? _ —Louis' eyebrows rose, without changing his expression.

— _ N-No, no. It's alright. Anyway, that's the end of Viktor's essay. _ —A smile -  _ this time fake _ \- grew on her lips, looking straight ahead as she stroked the boy's blonde hair. — _ A round of applause for Viktor and his essay. _

The applause came slowly, but was audible enough for the six-year-old to jump in place, covering his face with shame before extending his arms to the infernal being at his side, who immediately carried him out of the room, looking at Harry out of the corner of his eye and nodding in the direction of the door.

It was time to follow the Devil

—Daddy! —The child ran into the arms of Death, who immediately wrapped him up, kissing his cheek affectionately. —Did you like my essay? —He brought his little hands to Harry's face and looked at him with bright eyes and flushed cheeks. —Are you happy?

—I loved it. I love you so, so much. —He held him in his arms, leaving kisses in his hair and sniffing around a bit. He loved the smell of his babies. —You're amazing, Vik. Everything you do fills me with love.

Viktor seemed to be about to say something, but his eyes widened as he saw the Reaper behind his father, holding his younger brother, who slept comfortably on the adult's shoulder.

—Uncle Fionn, you came! —He shook Harry's arms a little, and Harry took him to his best friend, handing him over. Now Fionn was carrying both kids. —Did you see how pretty my essay was?

—It was fucking great! —The Reaper exclaimed.

—Yeah! Fucking great!

Harry felt his jaw was going to hit the ground. Just as he was about to say something, Louis appeared next to him, with a medium-sized sheet in one of his hands.

—Done, we can go now.

—Papa! My drawing! —The boy exclaimed when he noticed what Louis was holding. —Can we take it home? To the fridge?

—To the fridge. —The king of the underworld repeated, looking at his husband. —It's their apology for the interrogation in the middle of the essay.

Death slowly shook his head and, surrendering, followed her husband and best friend out of that institute, away from any worldlings who might see them transport.

When they arrived home, the children took a nap and the supernatural couple decided to take the day off. During their time alone, where Harry huddled against the king of the underworld on the living room couch, they both watched in admiration the drawing their six-year-old son had made.

For such a small boy, he had made the figures of his parents holding hands to perfection. Next to them were the children, also holding hands, and then Fionn holding the new cat, which didn't yet have a name worthy of a pet.

—That was a close call, don't you think? —He raised his eyes, meeting Louis, who raised his eyebrows a little. —If people went crazy, we would have had a huge problem.

—Nothing we couldn't handle. —He bowed his face down, leaving a soft, slow kiss on his husband's lips. —My favorite boy... —He stepped back just a few inches, inspecting the face of what had once been a simple, innocent, religious teenager, full of love that he could neither give nor receive properly. He had always felt Harry's courage as his own, but now it was even stronger. He licked his lips, sweeping his eyes - now red - over her husband's thick, pink lips, climbing up his little nose to those eyes in which he wanted to lose himself forever. Now these had a little dark spot in them, but even that didn't make them opaque, it made them even more wonderful. He shook his head in disbelief. —...you are precious in my eyes, and in anyone's. —He let out. —I love you.

Death's cheeks turned slightly pink as he wrinkled his nose a bit, lowering his eyelids in shame. He was no longer as stupefied as before, but still seemed to want to hide wherever he could. Again he was greeted by those beautiful emerald eyes, and the hand of their owner caressed his face. The touch burned like the strong flames of the Pit, and, damn it, he liked it.

He kissed him almost immediately, losing himself in the taste of his tongue along with his own, and longing for more quiet days like those.

**Author's Note:**

> THIS BOOK WAS WRITTEN BY BOODARKNESS ON WATTPAD. THIS IS ONLY A TRANSLATION AND I WAS GIVEN PERMISSION TO DO IT. IF ANYONE SEES ANY OTHER TRANSLATION IN ENGLISH PLEASE REPORT IT. THERE ARE ONLY THIS AND OTHER IN WATTPAD, BOTH MINE. I'M THE ONLY ONE THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR GAVE PERMISSION TO DO THIS.
> 
> moodboard: https://pin.it/k6nrrktsbydlk4  
> playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/61WKgeWeU1QFPMO7aFkVY5?si=HzYmkXMzSLW4Ls0sm0iI0Q


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